Stained Scarlet
by Miss Snazzy
Summary: My entries for Round 2 of the Twilight 25. "Hours later the bodies would be moved, the floors cleaned—polished to previous perfection. Memory of that night would fade as the witnesses aged and died." 25 unrelated one-shots or drabbles. POVs vary.
1. Alone

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Alone**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Edward/Bella**

**Rating:**** T**

**A/N: These are my entries for the Twilight Twenty-Five. There are basically twenty five different entries, each revolving around a different word and each with a different plot. Here is the link to the community for more information: http://community(dot)livejournal(dot)com/thetwilight25/**

***

Alone

***

I hid behind a bulky tree as she twirled around with her friends. She was wearing a new dress today—white with blue ribbons. It made her look like an angel.

Her name is Bella Swan…and I'm in love with her.

I thought about the day we met.

Bright blue and red lights flashed as the officers moved about the scene—procedure choreographing their steps. I watched a couple men wheel away a pair of tables covered in white sheets. Despite my young age, I knew what they were.

They were my parents.

I sat down on the sidewalk, letting my head sink into my hands. They were so close to the safety of the house that it seemed like a terrible joke for them to die down the street. They were so close to walking through the door—my father setting down his briefcase and my mother peeling the potatoes for dinner.

They didn't know I had gotten a hundred percent on my spelling test. They didn't know I had peeled the potatoes to spare my mother from the task I knew she hated, although she never complained.

They didn't know I had organized my father's desk because he wasn't able to find the time. They didn't know I had picked up all the toys on my floor and made my bed.

They didn't know and they never would.

Who would make me a sandwich for lunch? Who would know how to cut it up just right like my mother always had? Who would make me flash cards and sit there with me until I remember every word and definition like my father always had?

I knew the answer to all those questions.

No one would.

I was alone.

"Hi."

I looked up and saw a little girl standing in front of me. She was wearing a little white dress with a blue skirt and a blue pocket right in the middle of her chest. Her hair was styled in natural brown curls with the sides pinned to the side of her head with tiny blue clips.

"Hi," I replied shyly.

I had never really liked girls. They were too tiny and _girly_. Plus, whenever I asked them if they wanted to play, they always ran away from me saying I had cooties. Rosalie Hale had actually thrown a clump of dirt at me the last time I tried to talk to her.

So imagine my surprise when this girl started talking to _me_. I had never seen her before—she wasn't in my class. I decided she must have been the daughter of the Chief of Police that my mother had talked about.

"You're crying," she whispered.

I tensed and rubbed roughly at my eyes. My fists met moisture and I found myself glaring at the salty liquid now on my hands. She was right. I _had_ been crying.

"No I wasn't," I lied.

I looked up from my Velcro shoes to see her sitting beside me now. "My name's Bella," she said, extending a hand the same way my father did when meeting new business associates.

I stared at her face, seeing nothing both the seriousness in her brown eyes. They reminded me of the melted chocolate my mother let me dip my fingers into when she made her special candies.

"Edward," I said, not taking her hand. She eventually lowered it and I felt a little guilty at the sad expression on her face. I knew my mother would be disappointed in me for not being more polite.

"What happened?"

"My parents died," I answered, the words feeling foreign and wrong on my tongue. I kind of wished she _had _thrown a clump of dirt and left me to be.

There was a long silence between us as I pulled the Velcro up on my shoes.

"My mom died in a hospital," she suddenly blurted and my eyes snapped to her. She was twirling a loose thread from her dress around her finger, her gaze pointed at the ground. She looked nervous for the first time since she walked up to me.

I didn't speak, but then, I didn't think she wanted me to.

"She started getting really sick a year ago. I don't know what was wrong with her—no one would tell me anything. She went to the hospital a lot though. Eventually, she never left."

She suddenly yanked the thread out with a sharp tug. "So she died and I was sent here to live with Charlie."

She tilted her head down and some of her hair fell forward, shielding her face with reddish brown curls. I reached out without thought and tucked it behind her ear. Her skin felt hot and I realized she was blushing.

I smiled at her to alleviate some of her embarrassment, but it seemed to only make it worse.

"It's okay to cry, you know."

Her face was still bright red and her eyes were shining with unshed tears, but she was smiling at me. I went back to fiddling with the Velcro on my shoes, snapping the strap back into place.

I felt more than heard her shift away, likely tired of wasting her time on me. I lowered my head to my knees this time, fighting the urge to cry.

"Edward?"

My head snapped up and I stared at her in shock. She hadn't left, but she was holding out her hand. I stared at it for a moment, but once her face started to crumple, I knew I had no choice. I took it.

She led me down the sidewalk, away from all the bright lights and chaos. Away from the rubber gloves and medical equipment. Away from my parents' dead bodies. Away from my thoughts of loneliness even.

We walked over to a white house with a decrepit old red truck in front. "That's going to be mine someday," she commented absently, patting it on our way by.

She must be crazy. She _will not_ be driving that around. I barely even knew this girl, but there was _no way in hell_ I was going to allow her to drive around that deathtrap. In fact, I don't think she should drive at all. We can walk to school together. I'll even carry her if I have to.

It was at this point that I noticed we had already entered the house and Bella was staring at me like _I _was insane. I glanced around at the yellow walls, noting the way they were peeling from lack of attention.

"My mom did that when she was still with Charlie," Bella explained, turning toward her freezer.

She pulled something out, but I couldn't see what. When she shut it, I noticed a picture attached to the fridge with magnets. I saw Bella in the arms of a woman with a huge smile and I knew who it was.

"She was really pretty."

Bella followed my gaze and smiled sadly. "She was."

"You look like her."

Bella jerked her head to look at me with a stronger blush than she had earlier. I realized what I had said and felt my eyes widened. I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing.

"Thanks," she mumbled with a smile and I wasn't so bothered anymore.

She opened a pair of popsicles and broke them apart before handing one to me. We ate them in silence, each focused on the task of eating our ice creams and neither of us really knowing what to say next. She kept glancing at me though. This made me uncomfortable, but somehow happy for reasons I couldn't figure out.

I froze as she reached up and touched a piece of my hair. "You're really pretty."

I grimaced at the description of _pretty_ before what she had said sunk in. "You think I'm pretty?"

She tensed and her eyes widened in horror, likely realizing what she had just said. "Well I—I mean y-you—" she stammered, her face burning brighter than Rudolph's nose before she covered it with her hands.

"I think you're pretty too," I blurted, feeling my heart hammer with that admission.

She dropped her hands to her side. "Really?" she asked.

I nodded profusely, reaching for her hand. Her eyes darted between my hand and my face several times, finally resting on my mouth. There was this weird feeling ranging from my stomach to my chest as I took a step closer.

We closed our eyes as we leaned forward and our lips pressed together. Her lips felt soft and tasted like the cherry popsicles we were just eating. She touched my hair again and I flew backwards, hitting the table behind me.

"Wow," I said in wonder.

"Yeah," she mumbled in agreement.

We hadn't spoken since that day.

She tried though.

She offered me her friendship. She spoke to me when no one else would.

I avoided her like the plague.

She got the hint eventually—her face going blank, that special light I could always see in her eyes doused. She had given up and although this hurt me deeply, it was my fault.

I chose to be alone.

Her gaze darted to me, shocked by my appearance. She thought I ignored her, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I kept my distance and feigned disinterest, but I was always watching. Always keeping an eye on her—like she had on me that day.

She took a step toward me.

I took a step back.

I love Bella Swan. I love her enough to leave her be.

I'm destined to be alone.

***


	2. Honest

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Honest**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Edward/Bella**

**Rating:**** M**

**A/N: Inspired by **_**Panic! At The Disco**_**'s song "Time to Dance".**

***

Honest

***

Edward cradled her limp body as the Nile ran red, soaking his black dress pant covered legs. Dark purple crimson collecting on her once sapphire blue chest. Thoughts escaped him, logic evaded him as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

"Get away from her!" Tanya shouted, the gun shaking in her hand.

Edward looked passed the revolver at the woman who had ruined his life.

"No."

Tanya's make-up was smeared, her hair ratted, her nose running as she sniffed. This was the first time Edward had ever seen her unkempt.

"Don't you see? She was trying to turn you against me! I had to do it! I had to stop her! For us!" she cried hysterically, waving the gun at Bella.

Edward looked away from her, choosing instead to gaze down at Bella. _His Bella. _For months he had kept her presence a secret, forcing her to hide in the shadows, to love him clandestinely. She did not deserve such poor treatment. She deserved everything he could ever offer, and he had behaved in a way that made her seem to be a disgusting secret.

"I am so sorry, my Bella," he whispered to the tiny body in his arms. He could feel the steady flow of warmth disappearing from her body.

"Edward! We can leave. We can start a new life. I'm willing to forgive you for what you've done behind my back with this…this trash."

Edward's head snapped toward his wife. No, not wife. She was never his wife. She was his captor.

"She is more remarkable than you will ever be," he spat.

"You don't mean that…"

Edward laughed humorlessly; the sound was shaky and made him appear mentally unstable. Perhaps he was.

"Don't I?"

Tanya wiped a few blackened tears from her cheek.

"You cannot say such things. I am your wife."

"You were never my wife. You are the vilest creature I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. I call you a creature because a person, you definitely are not."

"You said _I do_, you wanted me as much as I wanted you. We are meant to be," she reasoned.

"Our union was nothing more than a consequence of lies and threats. You told your father you were with child—with my child. He forced me to marry you at gunpoint. It was never my desire."

"No…"

"Feigning ignorance again? You planned it all. The blood soaked sheets, the morning sickness. All so that you could have your shotgun wedding. Whose blood was that Tanya?"

"I-I-"

"Forget I asked. It is of no consequence. The truth is finally revealed and I have nothing more to say to you."

Tanya extended her hand.

"Come on! We can still make it. I've made my mistakes and you've made yours. We can look passed all that. We can start a new life together. We are in love."

Edward caressed Bella's pale cheek with the back of his hand, marveling at the smoothness of it as he had done many times. This time however, her skin was cold and he was determined to ingrain the old warmth into his memory.

"Don't you understand?" he whispered. "I love Bella."

Edward's gaze remained on his reason for living as he raised his voice.

"I love Bella."

Tanya screamed, but he ignored her. His Bella was blinking now, her quickly fading brown eyes gazing up at him with a new shine—one he had never seen before. Not even when he had professed his love. Her tired lips lifted slightly and even though the smile lacked energy, it was more beautiful than any other he had seen.

"I love you," she croaked, her voice wearing thin. There was blood running down the front of her dress from her bullet wound.

She lifted her scarlet hand, her body straining to hold it up. His hand enveloped hers, guiding it to his cheek. Bloodied fingerprints covered his skin in small sweet touches.

"S-Sorry," she whispered.

Edward caught the tear drop leaving the corner of her eye.

"Oh my Bella, you have nothing to apologize for. I was wrong. Can you ever forgive me, my love?"

"Yes."

Edward bent down, bringing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. It lacked their usual energy, but it contained more love and longing than any other.

"NO!" Tanya shrieked, the high pitched sound concealing the cock of the gun.

Edward glanced back at Tanya, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the shifted direction of the gun. Without thought, he lunged into the bullet's trajectory.

White spots dotted his vision as he slumped over his beloved. The bullet carved into his skin, only moments away from reaching his heart.

"Edward," it was soft for the panic rising in Bella's chest. She had accepted her fate, but had prayed he would live on with a happy life.

"Bella," he gurgled, blood pouring from his mouth.

Tanya screamed, shocked by what she had done. She had never meant to shoot Edward. She wanted to rid him of Bella, but never, _never_ kill him. She screamed again, fearing what would become of her for murdering her husband. She dropped the gun and took off toward one of the back entrances. There was nothing she could do for Edward now.

With the last of his strength, he descended down to her lips again. Mouths open, blood against blood, they were united. United as their eyes slid shut for the last time.

A bright light surrounded the tragedy, illuminating the scene in an eerie glow.

The light was not of heaven, but the flash of cameras as the witnesses clicked furiously, wanting to solidify the scene of loving torment forever.

Only one witness refrained, choosing instead to photograph a portion of the wall. Twin bullet holes bled the same crimson on the floor as the champagne bottle hidden within the wall spilled over shattered glass.

Hours later the bodies would be moved, the floors cleaned—polished to previous perfection. Memory of that night would fade as the witnesses aged and died.

But no matter how thorough the cleaning or how much time passes, after that night, the pearl floor would always be scarlet.

***


	3. Bound

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Bound**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:** **T**

***

Bound

***

I trudged through the mud, once again glad I had opted to wear boots instead of sneakers. The sky thundered above me, announcing the upcoming storm.

My truck broke down a couple miles back on a road that scarcely saw even one car and happened to be a dead zone. In fact, most of Forks was a dead zone for my cell phone.

When presented with the option of following the road home or cutting through the woods, I chose the quicker route. I had a long day at school and just really wanted to soak in a nice hot bath for a couple hours.

So here I was—sloshing through a trail in a forest my father Charlie had forbidden me from entering. I could picture it now—Charlie's brow furrowed in irritation and his lips quivering with his suppressed anger, making his moustache wiggle around like a caterpillar.

I could lie and say I took the safer path if I could control my blushing. Those collectors of heat I call my cheeks, gave me away every time. I knew Charlie relied on that involuntary bodily function as some sort of lie detector—white you're clean and red you're dead.

I took another step and my foot sunk into a hidden hole, soaking my pants all the way up to my knee.

After groaning and stomping around like a child—which really just made it worse—I continued on my trek through the trees.

I frowned at the way the trees seemed to be converging, offering smaller patches of light from the sky as I ventured on. From what I could see in those consistently rarer openings was that a storm was well on its way. If I didn't get home soon, I would be caught in it.

An instinct deep within told me to retreat—my path was becoming increasingly darker and it would be difficult, if not dangerous, to navigate. A weary and less rational voice argued that if I went only a little further, I would be home relaxing.

The deeper I went, the quieter it became—my clumsy footsteps only accompanied by my breathing. I was beginning to feel anxious with each step as I found myself still unable to spot my house in the distance.

Shouldn't I have reached it by now?

Could I possibly be going the wrong way?

Was I lost?

_No_, I decided. I knew this path. If a straight light is maintained, I will eventually make it home. Second guessing myself will just make the journey take longer.

I snapped my head to the left at the sound of some rustling leaves. I stared at them for a few moments before laughing lightly to myself for being so skittish. It was probably just a tiny animal foraging for food.

As I began to walk again, something caught my attention. My breathing sounded labored to my ears, although I didn't feel worn out in the slightest. I held my breath for a moment and that was when I heard it.

_Very heavy breathing_.

"Hello?" I croaked, unable to disguise my panic.

The breathing stopped and that was when I truly began to feel afraid.

I took off, not caring in the slightest as mud splattered across my jeans at the faster pace. The trees were getting closer, which unfortunately resulted in some above ground roots that I inevitably tripped over.

Bracing myself on my palms, I winced at the sharp sting of something on the forest floor. I coughed into the crook of my arm at the sight of blood. I heard a distinct chuckle straight ahead of me and knew I would have to find a new path.

I ran to the right at first, but as the sound grew closer and I zigzagged through trees to get away from it, I realized I had no idea which way was out.

I was lost.

I stopped, wiping the blood onto my jeans as I frantically searched for an escape.

"_Don't waste that_," a voice demanded that made my body grow rigid.

"Who's there?" I called.

A chuckle was all I got.

"Look whoever you are—my father is the Chief of Police and if anything happens to me, you _won't_ get away with it," I threatened weakly.

"I have no fear of the legalities of mortals," the voice laughed.

It was a male's voice, but of who, I was not certain. It was unfamiliar—frighteningly cold, malicious, and something…I couldn't quite decipher.

"You won't get away with this," I mumbled.

"I will."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity even when in danger.

"I am going to kill you."

I stiffened at his words, but did not try to run again. There was something about the voice that left no argument for what my fate would be.

I could hear the crunch of a pair of boots on leaves, coming steadily closer from behind, but I didn't dare look. The way the owner of the voice had moved around me silently up until now, made it quite obvious the oddly loud sounds were something he was doing on purpose to get to me.

I'm ashamed to admit it worked.

My heart beat in sync with each step.

_Thump._

Step.

_Thump._

Step.

I closed my eyes as a breeze of cold air hit my neck. The sensation traveled around me, until it bathed my face. It wasn't a breeze. It was his _breath_.

It traveled down the side of my neck and I titled my head back by instinct to allow the icy chill better access.

"You are going to taste so sweet," the voice whispered.

My limbs locked as a sharp pain shot through the side of my neck and my knees buckled as a strange sucking sensation began. Strong arms wound around my waist to keep me from falling. I sighed as my head filled with a strange fog, a woozy feeling from the missing blood.

That was when I felt it—a strange hum vibrating in my veins that caused my eyes to snap open.

I gazed at my attacker for the first time—a man with inhuman beauty that could make an angel cry—staring into my eyes with his own which blazed with the color and intensity of fire.

"You feel it too, don't you?" he whispered, tongue peeking out to clean all of the blood off his lips. I watched the movement, mesmerized.

"The electricity," his gaze became clouded in thought with memories I could not see. "Carlisle was right, but in my wildest dreams I never imagined it could be like this…" he trailed off.

"I wonder…" he grinned, eyes darting back to me.

My eyes widened as he leaned closer and his lips pressed against mine.

I was unprepared for the reaction that would incur.

It was like something had been set off within me—I grew urgent, my hands clawing wildly at his hair as my mouth devoured his, wanting…demanding…_more_.

The sudden burst of passion quickly exhausted what little energy I had and my hands fell to my sides as my head slumped to his shoulder when he broke the kiss.

"Careful love, you are too weak," he chided with a smile.

I needed to get away.

He lifted my body into his arms, cradling me like a child as he carried me through the woods. Rather than speak of what was to come, he hummed various tunes that I didn't recognize. I wanted to ask him if I was still going to die.

"Can I walk now?" I whispered.

He stopped, looking down at me with concern. "I don't think you should be walking in your state."

"I just…I would rather walk beside you," I whispered.

This seemed to be the right thing to say because he smiled at me before steadying me on my feet, keeping one of my hands in his as he continued leading me through the woods. I allowed him to do this, waiting until his grip loosened ever so slightly before making a run for it.

I only got a few feet away when I collapsed—a harsh pain burning in my chest. I writhed on the ground, not able to even crawl away as his boots stopped beside me.

"When a vampire tastes the blood of his betrothed, they become connected. To be without the physical contact of their mate causes them discomfort," he said in a smooth voice.

"But the human doesn't have the strength of a vampire, therefore making that mild discomfort become excruciating pain," he seethed, lips curling back over his teeth as he stared down at me in anger.

"Please," I panted.

"You ran away from me Bella."

I clawed at the dirt, trying to touch some portion of him, but he remained out of reach.

"Please," I whimpered.

"You hurt me," he glared.

"S-sorry."

This feeling was torture, like I was being stabbed repeatedly with a heated blade. I could barely see anymore, the pain was blinding.

"Sorry won't cut it Bella. I need to know you will accept our future and not try to leave me again."

"I promise," I breathed desperately.

He kissed my forehead before picking me back up to hold in his arms. He slid one of his hands under the back of my shirt, pressing his palm along my spine. It felt like a cooling balm had been applied within my chest, soothing all of its aches.

I faded into unconsciousness soon after that, but not before hearing a selection of words that would ring in my head for centuries to come.

"We are bound."

***


	4. Patience

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Patience**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Patience

***

I was watching the colors forming shapes with voices playing out scenes. I was watching the plot thicken, the way the characters behaved. I was watching the way the camera shifted to each face. I was entirely focused. Nothing could steal my attention from the screen.

I noticed some movement to my right.

Edward and I are friends. Really, we are. We met in painting class and just bonded. We got pizza after class a few times. We texted sometimes. We carpooled when we had to go to that art museum for class. We watched thirteen episodes of Glee in a row in his dorm room.

I watched his head bend down, wrapping his lips around the straw to the soda he bought—the soda we're sharing—instead of picking it up.

Edward and I are friends. Really, we are. He wants to hang out a lot, but I hate driving. I live off campus and it's a bitch to drive all that way just to drive right back hours later. He offered me his bed a few times, telling me he'd take the floor. He offered to buy me breakfast—the free breakfast he got for living in a dorm—all you can eat.

I watched his lips slide down the long plastic, his cheeks caving in as he sucked the sugary caffeine into his mouth.

Edward and I are friends. Really, we are. He has a girlfriend back home. He's talked about her a few times. I can't remember her name, but she's pretty. Looks like one of those preppy types. She wanted to go on a break—he mentioned one night while we were eating pizza—he said she was on her period. I told him it was weird for him to know that and to give her time, wait a week and see.

He says I'm unclear. He says I need to be blunter like him. I pointed out how much of a hypocrite he was—how confusing he was all the time.

He asked me if I liked him. He asked me if we could give "us" a shot.

Edward and I are friends. Really, we are. That's why the idea of being with him _that way_ was so strange. So unexpected. I'm a paranoid person. When a guy talks to me, I begin to assess. Does he like me? Is that why we're talking? Is that why he's interested in what I have to say?

I never thought those things about Edward. Not Edward. I never even _considered_ Edward. Not because he's unattractive because heaven knows he's gorgeous, I just…never saw him that way. He was more like a brother. Well, not a brother. Maybe a step brother. Or the brother of a good friend that you just happen to get along with.

I think things through. That's just the way I'm built. Long thought out decisions that calculate every possible outcome—so I told him the truth (mostly) and asked what would happen if we didn't work out. He would have no one.

I told him we couldn't date while he was dating someone else. I mean that's just bad etiquette, right? At any rate, he told me he wasn't going to break up with his long distance girlfriend. If we didn't work out, he didn't want to wind up alone.

I could sympathize with that. I really hate being alone.

Edward and I are friends. Really, we are. So when he proposed a _friends with benefits_ arrangement, I did what any good friend would do. I laughed. I laughed my ass off and told him "hell no". Because the idea of me being the other woman is just ridiculously hilarious.

My skin feels fire hot. My body feels like it's burning.

I think things through. That's just the way I'm built. Long thought out decisions that calculate every possible outcome—so when I touched on his fear of the idea of being alone, I was really contradicting everything I am.

Edward and I are friends. Really, we are. So when the prospect of an "us" was introduced, I was shocked. I was too surprised to really think clearly—to really consider. It was all logic because what did I know about how I felt toward Edward _that _way. That _foreign_ way.

I subtly switched legs, shifting so that my right leg draped over my left knee.

Edward and I are friends. Really, we are. We made this clear when I rejected him. So why, _why _can't I stop picturing him _that_ way? It's wrong. Me and Edward. It's wrong. We're friends. I shouldn't be imagining these things.

I shouldn't be bright red with the image of Edward leaning over—passed the cup of soda.

I shift my legs again.

I can't focus on this movie anymore. The colors have lost their luster; the characters are flitting around the screen in large swirls of indecipherable colors. I can't focus. I can't.

Edward nudges me. He says this is the best movie ever. My response is lacking. I can't remember what we're watching.

Denim sliding across denim. New position.

Edward nudges me. He tries to steal my nose. I try to steal his 3-D glasses. He looks at me like I slapped a baby across the face.

Denim. Slides. New.

Edward nudges me. He says this movie is awesome. He guffaws so loud I swear everyone can hear over the insanely loud speakers. I shush him.

Switch.

Edward nudges me. My arm kind of hurts from the pressure of his bony elbow. He tells me he's so happy he's smiling. He tells me to look at his smile. His gaze is trained on the screen.

I lean over and give him a quick peck on the cheek.

He turns—the screen forgotten.

"Bella?" The only time he has nothing to say.

I shrug.

He lifts my hand to his lips, holding it inches away and waiting for my permission.

I nod.

"This doesn't change anything," he says as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.

"I know."

He grins and I can tell by that look in his eyes that he wants me to look. Look at his smile. Look how happy he is. Look how much bigger it is now.

I smile back although I feel like I'm dying a little inside. I smile back because I have a little hope.

Because he couldn't keep both relationships going. He just couldn't. And I could wait until he figured that out.

_I think._

***


	5. Apathy

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:** **Apathy**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Apathy

***

-~*~-

_Smile into the darkness_

_While you frown in the light_

_Give up on your dreams_

_But don't go down without a fight_

_Fake the love_

_Expose the hate_

_Fall into heaven_

_While you're floating into hell_

_You can frown into the light_

_As long as you smile into the darkness_

-~*~-

The peppermint scent coated my body, creating a cool freshness on my skin as the warmth of the water surrounded me. All my troubles drifted away as I sunk deeper, the scalding of dry skin making me itchy before reaching a soft and relaxing rhythm similar to the rest. My eyes slid shut as I welcomed the luxury of slumber.

"I was growing impatient."

"I'm sorry," I answered.

I wondered why grass was often described as blades as I lay down, feeling soft plush beneath my back rather than something so sharp.

"How was your day?"

"Nothing special. As usual…" I sighed.

He turned on his side, leaning his head on his palm. A soft breeze twirled through the air, further ruffling his hair and making my fingers yearn to run through the lush forest of brown and gold. I wondered if the fiery tips could really burn my fingertips.

"Your life is special, every moment of it, however inconsequential it might be to you."

I shifted my gaze back to the sky, imagining a ship gliding along the vibrant blue to accompany the large sail-like clouds, a ship of pirates passing through the heavens and back to earth, shepherding lost souls that found themselves being whisked away by the breeze.

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to live it," I murmured, honestly unsure of how I would be able to push through even one more day.

Activities and television could alleviate some of the boredom on occasion, but what about that lingering shallow feeling? Maybe it isn't boredom at all. Maybe boredom is the mask it wears as it eats away at you, your brain accounting for it logically, telling your heart it is just the monotony of day to day life and nothing more.

But even while you're participating in these boredom alleviating distractions, you feel that hollow, that empty, that sickness in your chest. After hours of trying to cure it with that box of different colored Band-Aids, it remains.

Sometimes I wonder if the feeling will ever go away.

"Bella," he whispered in pain.

His voice broke me out of my daze and I glanced at him, noting the expression of hurt marring his beautiful features.

"Sorry, but it's kind of your fault for asking. You know how hard it is for me to ignore those types of thoughts."

"I know it's difficult, but please remember the one thing I have always asked of you."

"One thing? You ask me to do a lot of things," I laughed.

"Bella."

I sighed. "You ask me to leave those negative thoughts at the door."

He smiled at me knowingly, sitting up and moving into a crouched position beside me. "Do you think you can?" he extended a hand.

I took it, feeling the cool stone of his palm shooting contrasting warmth up my arm and into my heart. "I don't know," I answered honestly.

"For me?" he asked, leading me to a large oak door that had magically appeared in the middle of the meadow. Although from my viewpoint there was nothing but an extension of the meadow on the other side, I knew that appearances weren't always what they seemed.

"Anything," I answered with the same honesty.

He smiled crookedly at me and my heart fluttered as he took my hand and pulled me through the doorway, into darkness.

The darkness dissipated as we stepped into a whole new world whose light source appeared to only be candlelight. Long white wax sticks with blackened wicks alight with yellow flame littered the floor and hovered midair upon surfaces I wasn't certain were really there.

"Starting the festivities a little early, aren't we?"

He laughed, guiding me to a red velvet sofa. We disconnected hands as I sat, trailing my fingers down the black satin of my gown. I looked up at him in question, seeing that his change in attire matched mine, the faded blue collared shirt and jeans replaced with a black collared shirt and tie and black slacks.

"You seemed like you needed it."

I snuggled against the soft plush pillows, jumping slightly when he placed his hand on my thigh. He leaned over until his lips were at my ear.

"Shhh." I sighed as he started massaging my thigh, despite the heat it created upon my skin, it was quite relaxing. His other hand joined as he moved to my knee and continued his menstruations. Laying my head on his shoulder, I leaned against him, my eyelids sliding down as I sank further and further.

My eyes snapped open as water filled my nostrils, causing me to sit up abruptly and cough forcefully. In my relaxed state, I had slipped deeper into the tub and could have drowned because of it.

"No more bathtub visits," I sighed to myself.

My nose and throat ached at the previous intrusion of water, further illustrating my point. I was wide awake now—a fact that really irritated me at this point. I was having such a pleasant time with him that it seemed a shame to cut that short.

Still, I could lie in bed hoping to doze off, or I could get some of my work done. As it was, I was incredibly behind in my reading for my history class. Sighing in acceptance, I took my book and perched myself against my pillows, beginning on Chapter One.

I opened my eyes, staring at the cold concrete against my face in confusion. Propping myself up onto my arms, I glanced around. There were small brown and gray shop-like buildings pushed up against each other, creating a long strip that seemed to go on forever.

Each shop was stained with age and crumbling. Most of the windows were boarded up or broken, revealing a dark and empty chasm of nothingness. The sky was darkening and the light of the street lamp above me was flickering, its bleak orange ray dissipating and reappearing too staggered to provide any comfort.

"Edward?" I called uncertainly.

This place was different. The silence was too disturbing to be here—in my dreams. It reminded me of the nightmares I used to have before Edward showed up. I was beginning to regret picking up that history book. I knew on some level it would put me to sleep, like I had wanted, but I didn't want to be here anymore.

I started walking down the street, feeling the cold cement under my feet. I was wearing my pajamas, although I couldn't remember whether I had changed into them before drifting off. Despite the way my toes felt close to falling off from the cold, my thin tank top and shorts were keeping me warm enough.

This place reminded me of images I had seen of New York, though there was far more light in those photographs and the streets were so busy they seemed to be alive. Here everything was bleak, all of the lights were out apart from the inconstant glow of the street lamps, and it was deserted.

I kept walking down the sidewalk, unsure of where I was going. Something inside told me to press on and since my only other option was to sit down and hope Edward showed up, I didn't stop.

After some time—I have no comprehension of how long—there was this noise in the distant darkness. Everything was dark except for the strange orange glow that seemed to follow me, extending outward maybe ten feet from around my body. I could only see what was within this radius, bathed in that flickering light.

As I grew closer, I could tell the sounds were coming from an alley and I wondered if venturing in was wise. I felt as if maintaining my path was important, but after being in the silence for so long, I was incredibly curious.

My next step froze midair and I hesitated for just a moment before turning into the alley. There was a form hunched over a trash can, rifling through the discarded items frantically. I considered leaving whoever it was be and returning to my path—it felt wrong to be off my path—but I was already moving toward them.

I extended a hand and tapped the figure on the shoulder. The person froze the moment I made contact with the large brown coat concealing them. The material was thick and rough.

The stranger turned toward me, back still hunched even though they had abandoned their search through the aluminum tin. As the figure tilted their head up, I stared at her dirty curls and thin lips. She smiled all wide at me—long crooked yellow teeth that reminded me of some short story I had read many times when I was younger.

"The thorns they like the pretty," she cooed at me.

"I'm sorry?"

Her bottom lip began to quiver and I worried she would begin to cry, but she surprised me by grabbing my arms and pushing me against the wall. I struggled to break free, but she was too strong. Her hands left my arms, but I still couldn't move when she began to pat my cheek.

"They like the peachy clouds and the rainy, the blood petals," she smiled at me, wide gaps between her teeth sucking in the remaining orange glow.

"Oh little olive. They are pointy, pointy. Olive doesn't need the glass," she sighed, patting my cheek one last time.

The strange woman took off, leaving me against the wall. Although she was undoubtedly insane, she was the only person I had seen here and the only one besides me making noise in this otherwise silent world.

I ran after her, but as I exited the alley and found myself back on my path, I realized she was already gone and I had no way of finding her. I might have continued on my path from earlier, but it didn't feel like mine anymore.

It felt wrong.

I took a few steps toward the street, but stopped when I noticed something strange. The orange glow that had been following me like a spot light wasn't following me anymore. It was stationary and with each flicker, the amount of space it illuminated decreased.

As I tried to walk back into the center of the glow, the flickers increased. I picked up my pace and felt my mouth form a small smile of victory when my outstretched hand met the light. A moment later I was flying forward and released a cry of pain as my whole body splayed across the concrete.

I slid forward more into the light, but it was still retreating to its middle. I could feel something pulling on my leg and as I glanced over my shoulder, I gasped at the black hole my legs were being pulled into. I clawed at the concrete, trying without success to sink my nails into the hard surface, as I was dragged deeper and deeper into the darkness.

A scream loud and shrill escaped my lungs as I was yanked into oblivion.

***


	6. Obsession

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Obsession **

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Obsession

***

"Let the object of objection become but a dream, as I cause the scene to be unseen."

I sighed in relief as the pimple that seemed to form overnight vanished from my skin. Starting school in a new town was going to be hard enough without something so repelling giving people more of a reason to avoid, or perhaps mock me.

I knew it wasn't right for me to use magic for self-serving tasks, but what harm would such a simple and low power spell really do?

_Let's not forget the reason you're here_, I grumbled at my inner voice.

So maybe I had gotten carried away with my use of magic before. I was going through some pretty extensive training back home and had become a little too _involved_.

_Obsessed_, my mother had called it.

When performing a spell I would get this rush—of power, of adrenaline—and it would give me this glorious high that nothing else could give. The more power a spell needed, the bigger the thrill, but using that amount of power had its price.

Spells require a lot of energy to perform correctly and drained it out of the body of the caster. I had gotten into the habit of using such spells, but instead of replenishing my strength, I would perform more or study my craft. I spent more of my time sitting with my legs crossed on my bed and a book in my lap rather than under the covers. Sometimes I skipped sleeping altogether.

The precarious ledge I was teetering on worked for a while, with the aid of Red Bull of course, but eventually I fell off the side and into oblivion. When I woke, I found my mother hovering worriedly over me and discovered that I had been asleep for an entire week. She told me I hadn't moved the entire time and that it was like I was dead.

She was probably exaggerating, being overdramatic as she typically was, but that didn't stop her from using her rank as mother to institute a few rules.

"Rule one," she had said, "you are not to use magic." I remember how I had scoffed at that.

"Rule two. You are to hand over your spell book." I remember how sad I had felt as I handed over the leather bound book I had spent so many hours worrying over copying my spells onto the pages in perfect calligraphy.

"Rule three," she had paused in hesitance, "you are going to Forks to live with your father."

She had called it a sabbatical; I had called it a death sentence.

Charlie wasn't the problem, despite our lack of ever having a close relationship. That town was just too small and stifling—I was certain I wouldn't find books on the occult gracing the solitary four shelved bookcase Forks had to offer.

I sighed heavily, swinging my bag over my shoulder and snatching a small container of yogurt out of the refrigerator before climbing into the truck Charlie had gotten me. I was so grateful for the sentiment, that I didn't even use magic to fix the paint job, opting to go all red and rustic.

As I drove, I reached over to the closest cup holder in search of my trusty can of Red Bull, but only found air. I glared out the windshield, realizing that despite my mother's decision that Red Bull was detrimental to my health, my body craved it. It was then that I noticed I had forgotten a spoon for my yogurt and a dark cloud settled over me.

Keeping my gaze level with the road but focusing on something else entirely, I conjured a plastic spoon in the hand that wasn't holding the steering wheel. As I slid the spoon passed my lips and gathered up the coffee flavor on my tongue, I smiled to myself.

After parking, I sulked my way into the main office, my happiness wearing off as the feeling of magic coursing through me had. An elderly woman who looked likely to enjoy wiping goop out of the corner of an even older man's mouth handed me my schedule.

I glanced at my classes, noticing with disapproval that I had Spanish, Earth Science, and Gym. I didn't have any problem with the Spanish language, but after taking French for a couple years, it seemed unfair to switch now. Earth Science was basically an insult considering I had aced Biology last year and was meant to take Chemistry or Physics. Gym was just an excuse to give the stupid kids a chance to one-up the smart ones. Not to mention that after performing mentally and physically exhausting spells, running a mile was definitely not on my list of things to do.

"Umm…" I waited until she looked back up at me. "There must be some mistake." I slid the slip of paper across the counter, expecting her to pick it up. She didn't.

"I was taking French at my old school and I have already passed Earth Science and Biology." I neglected to mention Gym, wanting to make sure I took care of the classes that mattered most.

"I'm sorry, but it's too late to change," she replied.

I stared at the slip of paper for a moment, considering my options. I could just accept what I was given and make the best of my classes, or I could take matters into my own hands.

I could see Renee's disapproving frown, but I just couldn't do _nothing_…

"Would you mind checking it again?" I asked sweetly, sliding the scrap back to her.

She looked hesitant, but reached out to grab it anyway. As she did, I grasped her hand. I looked into her eyes, allowing the power of influence to flow from me and into her.

"I would really appreciate it if you could help me," I whispered.

I watched her eyes glaze over as she turned back to the computer.

"Oh…I can switch Spanish to French, but the Chemistry class was cut due to budgetary reasons. I can put you in Biology?" she asked uncertainly.

I sighed and nodded my approval, causing her to smile brightly. With the way that the power of influence works, it is damn near painful to disappoint the caster. She would not have denied my requests unless it was entirely impossible for her to carry out.

I waited for her to print out my new schedule.

…

I hummed in response as Renee continued to lecture me about using magic. With my cell phone pressed between my head and shoulder, I flicked my fingers in the air, watching the small colored marbles float in the air.

"You're doing magic right now, aren't you?"

How did she always know?

"Of course not…"

"Isabella Swan, don't you dare lie to me!"

"Okay, I am doing a small levitating spell, but it's nothing," I reasoned.

"I meant what I said about you taking a break. What you're doing isn't healthy."

I sighed, allowing the marbles to fall back onto my sheets.

"It's nothing."

"Just…promise me you will cut back."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I mean it Isabella," she replied sternly. "If you won't listen to me, I _will_ take matters into my own hands."

"You wouldn't…"

"If you won't listen to me, I _will_ bind your powers," she answered seriously.

Fuck me sideways.

…

It had been several months since my conversation with Renee and for the most part, I had heeded her warning. She seemed pleased enough, despite my small number of relapses. She never suggested binding my powers again, but I could always feel the threat lingering in the air. It was what kept me focused on my classes and was actually in bed every night.

As happy as I could pretend to be for Renee, I wasn't.

Because what is life without a little magic?

…

"I heard they're all like…together."

"Duh, they _are_ brothers and sisters."

"No, I mean like _together_ together."

"Eww. That's kind of gross isn't it?"

"They aren't related or anything, but yeah it's kind of weird."

I twirled my apple on the table, ignoring the idle chatter around me and focusing solely on its turning motion.

_Faster_, I begged it as I watched the small yellow dot pass more frequently.

Everything around me was a swirl of color. I was the apple—turning and turning.

_Faster_.

I stared down into its tiny brown stem like a tunnel into its pale yellow insides. I felt the juice-swirling and swirling.

"Bella?"

I took a deep breath through my nose and placed my palm on top of the stem, stilling the apple. I closed my eyes as the energy pulsed beneath my hand and transferred back into me as I took a bite.

I followed Jessica silently, ignoring her questioning stare. The apple core hung limply from its stem as I twisted it in my fingertips.

She glanced at me strangely as I passed the trash bin outside the classroom, and carried it through the door. I shrugged and made my way to my seat.

I moved over to my empty table, sighing at the prospect of an entire hour to myself. Biology was exceedingly simple, seeing as I had already learned everything in my AP class back home.

I pulled out my private notebook and let my mind wander. I often found this to be the easiest way to make the words come. I glanced at the apple core I had left in front of the seat beside mine—a seat that had been empty since my first day here—hoping to draw some inspiration from it.

The rhymes flooded my head and my hand swept back and forth across the page as I tried to copy them all down before they faded.

I heard a strange sound beside me, but despite my curiosity, I didn't look up. If I lost my focus the words would disappear and I was on a roll. Besides, it was probably Mike Newton anyway—trying to get in my pants yet again. Why that boy couldn't understand that I wasn't interested was beyond me.

You'd think that after waking up with _very_ hairy palms, he would learn to keep it in his pants. Okay, so it had only been there for a couple days—Renee just has this sixth sense when it comes to my misuse of magic and she called me and chewed me out until I lifted the curse—but I _had_ thought it had gotten my point across.

Apparently not.

He was probably trying to read what I was writing, but I had cast a spell long ago to keep this notebook from prying eyes. To anyone but me, it would appear to be very detailed Biology notes.

Of course, I never took notes in this class, but I needed to get Mr. Banner off my back somehow. He already hated me enough for being able to answer all of the bonus questions on his tests—you know, the ones that absolutely no one is supposed to be able to answer unless they had read over ten chapters ahead…which I have.

My hand stilled as my apple core rolled onto my paper, effectively smudging a few of my words with the excess juice.

I stared at it for a moment, until the anger began to kick in and my gaze darted to Newton.

But it wasn't Newton as I had thought. Sitting in the _always_ vacant chair was a boy I had never seen before.

He was tall and lanky with the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up to reveal well defined arms.

His face was smooth, not even one stray hair poking out of his chin. In contrast, his hair was wildly windswept and a very strange copper color.

I looked into his eyes, shocked to find him staring back at me with so much disgust. Not even Lauren looked at me that way and I was pretty sure she was the president of the "I hate Bella Swan" club.

I could feel my body heating up as my anger grew and if anything, the strange boy's look was beginning to reveal even more of his distaste.

"What the hell is your problem?" I gripped my pen tightly, unwilling to lose control.

"Keep your trash on your side of the table," he snapped.

"This is _my_ table," I replied through gritted teeth.

"Not anymore," he smiled, but it wasn't a happy expression. "I would appreciate it if you would keep your trash where it belongs, instead of spreading your filth like some common swine rolling about in garbage."

My fists were shaking, and my eyes narrowed. I was _livid_.

I don't think I have ever been so furious—not when Mike pretended to trip and openly groped me, and certainly not when Lauren had stuck a used tampon on my truck's windshield.

I didn't know whose cooch she snagged that from and I didn't want to know.

Every past experience that came to mind seemed like lollipops and sunshine compared to this. I had lost control in situations a lot smaller than this.

I was literally shaking with anger. _Shaking_.

I channeled my inner Spider-man—_with great power comes great responsibility _—and willed my body to turn away from this infuriating boy.

I was staring at Mr. Banner's scribbles on the board now, but I was still seething. I had always had a bad temper, but with all my training, I thought I had gotten more control over my emotions.

Clearly I was mistaken.

I took a deep breath and tried to let my fury leave my body as I pushed the air out of my lungs.

_Deep breath, Swan._

The room became a tense, hostile environment. This table was our battlefield and my finger was looped through the pin of a grenade, waiting for one false move.

Neither of us spoke another word though, and I prepared myself for a dramatic, full on storm out of the room the very second the class ended.

My notebook was tucked securely under my arm with my bag slung over my shoulder. Winning today's battle rested on beating him out of the classroom.

I watched the clock and as the second hand hit the twelve, I was up and pushing my seat out…

…and into the boy walking behind me.

"Watch it," he growled, thrusting the chair forward and causing my knees to buckle. I fell back in my chair in a heap as I watched him disappear out the door.

"Son of a bitch…"

The words of a curse were clustering on the tip of my tongue, just waiting to drip into reality.

I bit down harshly, keeping my tongue immobile.

Mike stopped and leaned up against my table as Jessica finished packing up her stuff.

"_Damn_ Bella. What'd you do to Cullen?"

"Who?" I glanced at him quickly as I realized the frame of the door that boy had just exited out of was beginning to receive the brunt of my irritation. I hoped no one would notice the almost nail-like scratches made in the paint.

"_Edward Cullen_. I told you about him at lunch," Jessica sighed dramatically. "Him and his family are only the talk of the whole school."

"Bunch of freaks if you ask me," Mike interjected.

Despite his constantly hitting on me, he definitely did not like it when Jessica expressed any interest in the rest of the male population of Forks.

"Well who is Edward?" I asked again.

"He's your new lab partner," Mr. Banner announced, his grin showing his amusement.

So the infuriating boy had a name.

Edward Cullen…our new celebrity.

And my new nemesis.

…

The next day I was determined to beat him out of the classroom. I considered using a mobility spell to keep him from moving, but I quickly dismissed that thought.

Using magic to win would make me feel like a cheater and although he would never find out about my little advantage, it would taint the victory.

I sat in my seat, waiting for him to show up and for the battle to begin. I'll admit I was even a little satisfied that I had beaten him to our table.

_My_ table.

I waited with a smug smile because today _I_ would be the winner and he would be left to choke on my dust.

The bastard never showed up.

I ignored the momentary feeling of irritation because this was what I wanted, wasn't it? My table, all to myself?

I opened my special notebook and for the first time in awhile, couldn't think of a thing to write.

…

The next two days played out much the same. Each day I would make it to the table early, confident that this would be the day in which I would get the satisfaction of having him watch me walk away.

He never showed up.

His absence bothered me more than I would have liked and I found myself trying to come up with possible reasons for it.

Was he sick?

Had he broken a leg?

Had he died?

I felt a little bad for that last thought. It was strange how a comment I usually made when someone was missing from school could sound so horrible when applied to him. I mean it wasn't that I wouldn't be bothered if any of my friends died… it was just that even hypothetically implying he was deceased left this horrible feeling in my stomach.

_Okay_, I thought one night as I paced around my room. _This is just getting out of hand_.

Why was I thinking about him so much? Why did the thought of him being hurt pain _me_ so much.

It shouldn't. If anything, I should feel a bit of wistful hope that wherever he was, he was suffering. After what he had said to me that day, it would certainly be justifiable.

That stupid hand of his swatting my apple core onto my notebook and blurring my page.

Those stupid flexing arms of his that flexed when I glared at him.

That stupid penny colored hair that was styled in such while abandon that I felt myself wanted to participate in the chaos.

Those stupid golden eyes that made his gaze shine…

_No, no, no, NO._

I groaned.

Yes, he was hot. I had noticed. I mean, you'd have to be blind and a little mentally unstable _not_ to notice, but I was pretty sure a blind person would be able to tell anyway, especially with the way that voice of his wrapped around you like—

_No, no, no, NO._

I rubbed my eyes roughly, as if that would drive the thoughts away. The images…

I groaned again as I dove under the bed and threw it on my desk before swiping my notebook out of my bag. I pulled the curtains for my window shut, opened the small wooden box, and pulled out a few objects: a white crystal, rose petals, and the silver chain Renee had bought me a few years ago.

She had confiscated most of my magical stuff, but after a lot of pouting and exploiting her sentimental side, she let me keep the chain. I told her I wanted to keep it because it was a gift from her, which was partially true, but not necessarily the reason I wanted to keep it. The silver chain was perfect for many spells, like the one I was about to perform.

I sat in the middle of my bed with my legs crossed and the crystal on top of the petals which were arranged in a small pile before me. I twisted the silver chain around my fingers and held my hand a few inches above the pile.

With my fingers splayed, I concentrated on the words Renee had taught me back when I first started noticing boys. She was so excited about "her little girl growing up" that she kept teaching me romantic centered spells. She had taught me this spell last Valentine's Day when she was asked out by two different guys and wasn't sure which one she would rather go with.

_Love interests pull my heart from side to side_

_Find my feelings deep where they reside_

_Reveal to me what has yet to be supplied_

_So that I may see the truth with my own eyes_

_Okay_, so the spell wasn't that great. Renee was a little drunk and I'll admit that I was a little tipsy. Renee may have started worrying over my use of magic these last couple of months, but she never had a problem with letting her underage daughter get liquored up.

I watched the crystal begin to hover and I lifted my hand higher as the petals joined in. The crystal remained turning halfway between the bed and my hand while the petals floated around it in a vertical stream.

I repeated the spell in a soft whisper, imagining _him_ and staring intently as a noncommittal gray smoke swirled within the crystal. I waited with baited breath as the smoke darkened and shifted into a color I wish I could ignore.

"You've got to be kidding me," I mumbled in disbelief.

I stood up and threw the silver chain onto my pillow, laughing shakily as the crystal and petals remained afloat…taunting me.

According to the color still swirling within the crystal, I had a thing for Edward Cullen.

I wasn't even sure I could call it that—_a thing_—because with the way that it was glowing, this definitely wasn't just _a thing_.

_Holy crap._

Did I love Edward Cullen?

_Could_ I love Edward Cullen?

It had been one instance. We had been together for _one goddamn hour_ and in that hour…he had behaved like a jerk.

The crystal continued to glow and I shot it a glare that broke the spell, sending the petals fluttering to my bed and the crystal plopping down among them.

Now I just needed to break whatever spell Edward Cullen had cast on me.

***


	7. Comfort

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Comfort**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** M**

***

Comfort

***

I stared at the bed uncertainly.

"My bed isn't really big enough for two people, so you can take my brother's."

Rosalie's bed is a single set in a white frame with floral patterns carved into the wood. Her sheets are a pale sand color and her quilt is a blue just barely lighter than her eyes. It is simple and pretty, highlighting her features even more.

In contrast, her brother's bed is massive—no doubt a queen—set in a frame as black as pitch without any designs, making it look smooth and sleek. The sheets are a vivid white, more so than Rosalie's frame, and the quilt is a deep gold.

"You want _me_ to sleep here?" I verified.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah I know it's pretty extravagant, but then, that's how my bro rolls."

"Where is he going to sleep?" I asked, regarding the luxurious bed as if it would swallow me whole if I even attempted to touch it. It was hilarious when it happened to Johnny Depp, but I doubted I would feel the same if it were me.

"On the couch in the living room."

"I wouldn't want to put him out—"

"You aren't. He always sleeps on the couch. Now stop complaining and just get in bed," she waved her hand dismissively.

I sighed, resigning myself to persevere through this awkward situation and just lie down and get this night over with. I was glad I had brought a pillow and grabbed one of my blankets before I left my house earlier. I might be willing to sleep on her brother's bed, but not in it. The idea seemed way too intimate and an invasion of his privacy, whether he used his bed or not.

When Rosalie asked me to come over and spend the night, I had an excuse ready like always, but then I remembered the promise I had made to myself days earlier.

I have always been a private person—opting to stay home and read rather than hang out. Lately though with college, I had become even more of a recluse. The absence of the presence of my friends at school—they all went to the community college, while I went to the state college—decreased the amount of time we would spend hanging out. That and my constant silence in class was practically reducing me to a mute.

That's why I didn't refuse Rosalie's offer, and that's why I'm laying here now wondering what exactly I was thinking.

Rosalie is a great friend—don't get me wrong—but she can be so dull at times. The moment the sun sets it's almost as if she shuts down for the night, all smiles, quirked eyebrows, and tenacity, drifting away like steam. She becomes all sighs and sluggishness like it's a physical chore to dip her hand into the bowl of popcorn resting in her lap.

Despite how much it might bore me, I don't hold it against her because no one—not even Rosalie Hale—could be perfect all the time.

Rosalie's parents have been divorced for about a year. Without the dual incomes, her mother was forced to move into an apartment, where Rosalie would stay half of the time.

I don't mean to criticize—I'm not spoiled or particularly well off—but Rosalie's mother's apartment has a _weird smell_.

I understand that in the grand scheme of things, a weird smell is nothing to complain about, but if you were in my shoes, stuck in this place, perhaps you would feel differently.

It's not a terribly disgusting odor like that of a Porta Potty, but it's anything but pleasant. The weird smell is in _every_ room and has stained all of the furniture, including the bedding.

I checked to see if Rosalie was asleep before discreetly spraying the blankets with my body spray. Normally I would feel guilty for such an act, but I figure the _pleasant_ scent would wear off during the night, removing the evidence.

I nuzzled into my pillow and blanket, sighing happily to be free from the odd stench for at least a couple of hours.

About an hour or so later I opened my eyes, finally accepting that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep through sheer determination alone.

My teeth were mildly chattering and I couldn't feel my toes. In an act of desperation, I slid beneath the blankets below me, ignoring any awkward feelings as I relished the warmth. After all, Rosalie had said it was okay.

Voices awoke me from my brief sleep and I glanced toward the door, noticing that the noise was coming from the living room. Her brother must be home. To avoid any awkward conversations, I buried my face under the covers and kept my breathing steady. The sounds stopped shortly after and I allowed myself to relax.

I could feel warmth spreading across my thigh and the heat caressed my skin like a massage. The hand drifted farther, finally stopping in the middle of my shorts. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep my body relaxed so that the dream wouldn't disappear, like many of the others.

The phantom hand began to apply pressure, sending a wonderful flutter throughout my body. The more it rubbed, the more I needed it to rub, and I felt my hands clench, seeking something to grab onto. My fingers slid across the sheets—sheets I couldn't remember buying—until they made contact with something hard and hot.

_Skin_.

I shrieked, withdrawing my hand and rolling over quickly away from the not so phantom hands. I moved too far and ended up rolling off the bed, taking half the sheets with me. The other half was being kept on top of the bed…by the form it was wrapped around.

"Shit," I heard a masculine voice curse.

I twisted and turned in the sheets until I had created enough slack to kneel beside the bed, my arms pressed into the mattress. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the form of a man, almost mirroring my position.

We kind of just stared at each other for a moment, neither of us really able to see the other fully, but unable to look away.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat.

"I-I'm a friend of R-Rosalie's," I stuttered.

"What the fuck were you doing in my bed?"

"Rosalie said it was okay…I mean...she said you always sleep on the couch…and her bed isn't big enough for two…and she said you never slept in your bed anyway, so it would be fine…" I babbled.

He was quiet. I watched his hand slide through his hair and I couldn't help thinking about what that hand had been doing not too long ago.

"Well I do."

"What?"

"I do sleep here sometimes."

"Oh."

I knew it. Damn Rosalie.

Remembering that we weren't alone, I glanced at Rosalie, relieved to find her still sound asleep.

Everything was quiet again, until a sudden shiver moved through my whole body. He must have felt it because he suddenly looked up.

"You're cold?"

"Well yeah…I mean…you do have half the sheets…" I joked, laughing shakily.

He jumped up, releasing his hold on the sheets and as the light from the opposite window hit him, it gave me a clear view of his bare chest and black boxers. The way the moonlight touched his skin, made it almost shimmer in the darkness.

"Uh…you can take the bed," he said, gesturing with his hand at the rumple bedding and turning to leave the room.

"I'd rather take the couch," I interjected, causing him to pause in the doorway.

"No it's fine. You were already here anyway…" he said slowly.

"But it's your bed," I argued.

"You're the guest, I insist," he shot back.

He did have a point, but there was no way I was going to admit that. I decided to just lay all my cards out because I was not going to sleep here and it just wasn't possible for this to get any worse.

"Look…I really wouldn't feel comfortable sleeping here after…" I paused, searching for a way to put what happened into words, but coming up with nothing, "well, you know…"

He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before speaking. "Oh." It didn't seem like that was what he had intended to say, but I didn't point that out. I just didn't think it was in my place to mention it.

I finally stood up, letting the sheets fall off of me and the cool air hit my bare legs. I just _had_ to wear shorts didn't I?

I gathered my blanket and pillow, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. The truth was that I didn't really want to sleep in the living room either, but I was trying to go with the lesser evil. I was halfway through the hallway when he grabbed my arm.

"I'm Edward, by the way."

I looked up at him, far too aware of his skin touching mine and too focused on his shadowed face.

"Bella," I breathed.

I had been groped by Rosalie's brother. Things would definitely be awkward in the morning, but I wasn't really concerned with that right now.

The more pressing matter was that I might have liked his touch a little too much…

***


	8. Dark

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Dark**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Dark

***

"Let me go!" she screamed, arms flailing wildly as the tall statuesque blonde and short petite girl with black hair carried her body through the door.

When she realized where they were taking her, she struggled even more.

"No please!" she cried, going so far as to claw arms and reach for the blonde's hair while she kicked at the other girl.

They tossed her onto an old mattress before darting back up the stairs and locking the door. The small girl didn't miss her friend's horrified gaze as they cut off her only source of light.

The blonde wiped her palms on her pants and fixed her hair before returning to the living room and plopping down in one of the armchairs.

"Don't you think that was a little harsh?" Alice asked quietly, already feeling guilty over what she had helped her friend do.

"No. She's almost eighteen years old and she's _still_ afraid of the dark. She needs to get passed these childish fears," Rosalie said, waving a hand in dismissal.

Visions of Bella strapped into a straight jacket invaded her mind, making her feel impossibly worse. For who knew what level of trauma this could inflict…

"I mean, pick something worth being afraid of…like a Grizzly bear," Rosalie nodded to herself.

"You're only saying that because you know that's what Emmett's afraid of," Alice pointed out.

"Well come on! Grizzly bears can rip you to shreds. That's a hell of a lot scarier than the dark."

"She's not afraid of the dark. She's afraid of what's _in_ the dark."

Alice stared at the basement door, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible would happen.

…

I laid there for a moment, breathing heavily. My eyes were still squeezed shut, but the problem was that there wasn't any light behind my eyelids either.

Just more darkness.

I opened my eyes and slid up against the wall behind me, wrapping my arms around my legs. I couldn't see anything and I was trying desperately not to cry.

I began to rock, but the shrill squeaking noise the old mattress below me made when I shifted was so terrifying that I immediately stopped. I took a deep breath, willing myself not to panic.

After all, they wouldn't leave me down here all night…would they?

I shook the thought away, trying to keep the paranoia at bay. They knew how terrified I was of the dark. They wouldn't leave me here.

_They threw you in here didn't they?_

I began to take deep breaths in order to slow my heart rate, so that I could get a better read of my bearings. So I was stuck in the basement, in the dark. There was nothing down here but old boxes that Alice had neatly packed with all of her out-of-date clothing. She was such a packrat, but refused to be greeted by the sight of something that wasn't in season within her closet.

There was this old mattress that I had accidentally spilled grape juice on during one of our sleepovers. She had a new one all set up within the week, but was again unable to part with the stained one. A mattress didn't need to be clean to slide down the stairs with, which we had done in the past.

All of that had happened in the daylight though and no matter how much I tried to remember to stay calm, I couldn't ignore the black abyss surrounding me.

Besides, it had been a while since I had been down here. Ever since Alice had her parents install a disco ball into her room, there's been something wrong with the flow of electricity into the basement. The electrician assured her that it wasn't his doing, that the lack of light had nothing to do with his tinkering with the wires.

None of that mattered right now. The fact is that I am here, in the dark, and I need to get out.

I had two options. I could sit here and wait for them to let me out, or I could feel my way over to the stairs and try to reach the door myself.

The idea of stumbling around the darkness with my hands groping the air was unbelievably frightening, but I couldn't just sit here. I could already feel my skin crawl like the darkness was made of black ink and was beginning to stain my arms, legs, and face.

I started to crawl, flinching at the loud sounds the mattress made with each shift of weight. I froze as my hand brushed against something cool and I began to hyperventilate.

_He isn't here._

I repeated it like a prayer, a special mantra to relieve the stress and give me the strength to continue moving. The fear that has haunted me from childhood was causing the memories to resurface, moments of my life I had worked so hard to keep buried.

…

Renee shut the door to her daughter's room, intending to follow through this time. Bella was much too old to continue sleeping in her bed and it was about time Renee put her foot down. Even the nightlight Renee had begrudgingly purchased for her on the nights that Renee had _company _under her sheets was beginning to be too much. Bella need to get over her problem and it seemed that tough love was the only way to go about doing that.

Renee ignored her daughter's pleas as she climbed into bed, leaving the nightlight forgotten next to her alarm clock.

Renee jerked awake at a high pitched noise and turned over to glance at her alarm clock. She huffed in annoyance at the four a.m. that shined back at her. She needed to be up in an hour and couldn't possibly fall back asleep now that she was up. She staggered out of bed and walked to Bella's room.

Renee opened the door and gasped at what she saw. Bella was sitting straight up in bed, rigidly so, with her hands plunged into her soft curls. Her brown eyes were wide like a dog's chew toy that had been squeezed to hard. What bothered Renee most were the deep scratches lining each of her tiny arms and the blood that had seeped into the sheets twisted around her.

Renee raced to her daughter, trying with no avail to remove her hands from her hair.

"Bella! What happened?"

Bella wouldn't look at her though, her gaze although almost vacant, seemed fixed on some indefinable point in front of her.

Renee stared at the way the scratches were made, and as she was able to pry Bella's hands away, finally noticed the blood and skin under her daughter's fingernails.

"Bella honey," she paused, her voice growing quieter. "Did you do this?"

…

"Stop that."

Alice was pacing back and forth across the living room as visions of anguish and death kept coming to her mind.

"This is wrong Rose. I can see it," Alice mumbled.

"You took one palm reading class. That doesn't make you psychic. You're just paranoid."

Alice scowled at her friend, but didn't say anything. Psychic or not, she couldn't stop imagining everything that could go wrong.

…

I'm not crazy.

I mean I realize that whenever someone says that, it tends to be a lie, but I'm really not.

Renee always thought I was crazy. She probably would have pressed the issue of my seeing a professional if she wasn't afraid of being accused. I guess she had watched the Sixth Sense one too many times.

You know how the mom brought her kid in because he kept getting hurt and the people turned around and accused her of being abusive? Yeah, Renee was afraid of that.

I always thought it was funny that she put so much thought into that part of the movie. We all know that the kid isn't hurting himself—that it's the ghosts. So you'd think that when your own daughter starts getting random injuries and cries about a monster, you might consider an outside attacker.

She never did though. She's always been as clueless as the mother in that movie.

No matter how many times I told her about the monster that was haunting me in the dark, she refused to believe me.

Of course, I eventually stopped trying. Not because I had given up, but because doing so would be in my best interest.

He brought me a lock of her hair one night. He told me that if I didn't do what he asked, he would go after her instead. He gave me a choice.

Me or her.

So when she asked me how the blood got under my fingernails, I lied. When I finally admitted to what she thought was the truth, she insisted that I see someone.

I didn't even consider it.

I wouldn't let myself imagine having someone to confide in, to share my fear with. As much as I wanted that, it wasn't worth it.

I did what he told me to do. I told her that if she did, when they asked me who had hurt me, I would blame her.

She wouldn't look at me for a week.

I moved to Forks years after that to stay with Charlie. He was so happy to have me around that he never asked why. He never bothered me about keeping my light on all night, so long as I just helped out with the electricity bill by doing housework.

I slid my hand slowly across the floor, searching for any debris that I might trip over before crawling forward. I had no idea if I was going in the right direction, but if I could just find a wall, I could follow that around until I found the stairs.

I whimpered as I felt something cool trail across my jaw.

_He's not here. He's not here._

"_It hides in the dark where monsters dwell_._"_

I bit my lip, trying to keep the rest of the words from escaping. I jerked as something cold slid down my arm.

"_Will he find you? Only time will tell_,_"_ the words spilled forth.

I froze as something cold brushed my earlobe.

"_Remain in the darkness and let the inky black seep,_" he whispered.

I sucked in a breath as his arms slid around my torso.

"_Feel his nails slice you open, deep deep_," he growled.

I screamed as he dug one nail into my abdomen. He brought the hand dripping with my blood up to my face and clamped it over my mouth to stop my screaming. With his other hand holding me in a constricting grip, he pressed two fingers over my nostrils.

I jerked and struggled as I fought for air, but it was pointless. He was just as strong as he was when I was younger. I slumped against him as I lost consciousness.

…

"I can't do this," Alice said in response to Bella's latest scream of terror.

Alice moved purposely toward the basement door, but paused when Rosalie grabbed her arm.

"Don't you think you're overreacting—"

Alice cut her off. "We are supposed to be her friends, Rosalie," Alice stressed. "Yes, she has a childish fear of the dark, but is it really our place to force her to overcome that fear? We're supposed to comfort her, not make things worse."

With that, Alice shook her off and turned the lock. Alice opened the door slowly and stared into the dark doorway momentarily before poking her head in.

"Bella?"

Alice waited, but Bella didn't answer.

"Bella it's okay. We aren't going to make you stay down here any longer," Alice assured.

Still no answer.

Rosalie moved to Alice's side. "Come on Bella. This isn't funny," she frowned into the darkness.

"Bella, we're sorry. We were wrong for what we did. Just please come out," Alice pleaded.

When Bella still had not answered, Alice left. When she returned, she had a flashlight in hand. Holding hands to ensure neither of them fell, Alice and Rosalie descended the stairs. Alice shined the flashlight over the old mattress—the last place Alice had seen Bella before they had locked her down there.

She moved closer to the aged piece, releasing Rosalie's hand limply. There was blood on that mattress…

…and it was _fresh_.

"BELLA!" Alice screamed, shining the light around the basement frantically, but it was of no use.

She was already gone.

***


	9. Prelude

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Prelude**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Jacob**

**Rating:**** M**

**A/N: Inspired by Avenged Sevenfold's "A Little Piece of Heaven". I really recommend watching the music video after reading this.**

***

Prelude

***

Jacob shut the gate on the white picket fence, noting with disapproval that the once shining white paint was beginning to yellow. He would need to alert his loving wife, Bella.

He turned his key in the lock, frowning as he opened the door. Not once in their marriage had he needed to use his key. Bella would always be waiting there with the door open and a smile just for him. He checked his watch, but found that it was five fifteen. He was right on time, so where was she?

He shut and locked the door and turned to hang up his coat after depositing his keys in the small wooden bowl they kept on a table near the door. He had made her that bowl in high school for Valentine's Day. She was so happy—she had tears in her eyes.

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief as he entered their kitchen, noting the immaculate cleanliness of the counters and sinks—something consistent and normal to stifle his worries. He wrapped his arms around Bella's waist from behind, admiring the contents of the large pot she was stirring from over her shoulder.

"What's for dinner?"

"Chip beef on toast."

He didn't notice her rigid posture, or the way she bit the words out.

He released her after a moment, moving to occupy his usual seat at the head of the table, facing the doorway. It was essential he had told Bella once, for him to face the only entrance. It was the man's duty to protect his wife from intruders. He would notice the intruder and act accordingly.

Bella didn't mention that she was in more danger by being closer to the entrance, or that they lived in a very peaceful neighborhood, in a peaceful town.

Bella didn't mention a lot of things.

Jacob never noticed.

Jacob unfolded his newspaper and leaned back as he read the sports section. He was just getting into this article about show boating, when Bella placed dinner on the table. He dug in readily, savoring the taste of beef and gravy. Bella was an excellent cook—all of his buddies at work were quite jealous when he would invite them over for their poker night and she would serve her famous dishes.

Bella took her usual place at the other end of the table. Jacob was never bothered by this—for he knew they did not need to sit close to express their love. That's how close they were emotionally.

Bella sat in her seat quietly, making no move to pick up her fork. It wasn't until Jacob was halfway through shoveling down his second helping that he noticed she didn't have a plate in front of her.

"Not feeling well?" he had expected as much. It explained all of the inconsistencies of the day.

Bella stared in his eyes for a long moment. The stare was probing, imploring, and it made him uneasy as he tried to smile back.

"Jacob…" she trailed off, eyes dropping to her napkin.

Jacob sensed something was amiss. How inattentive he had been. His wife was unwell and he should have been taking care of her, like the loving husband that he was. He set his fork on his plate and reached across the table to grab her hand. Bella let him.

"Bells—"

It was like some imaginary line had been crossed. Like something had popped. Snapped.

Bella yanked her hand from his grasp, a grimace on her face.

"I hate that," she said suddenly, angrily.

Jacob stared at her, confused and wondering whether she was experiencing a fever of some sort. Bella never got angry.

"What do you hate?" he asked, intent on placating her.

Bella didn't miss his tone and her lips formed a scowl.

"I hate that you call me Bells."

"I've always called you Bells..."

"I've always hated it."

They stared at each other. For the first time in their entire marriage, he was unsure of himself. Unsure of the words that flitted through his head. Unsure of how to deal with her.

"I can't anymore, Jake."

He just stared. "What?"

"I can't do this anymore," she gestured between them.

Jacob realized his mistake. "Oh Bells—a," he caught himself a second late, but continued. "I'm sorry for not taking care of you while you are so ill. Don't worry about cleaning up tonight. I'll leave it for you for when you're better," he smiled.

Bella's whole body shook with anger, but she suppressed it. She had years of practice doing that. The ease of which it took irritated Bella more than she could comprehend.

"I can't be your wife anymore," she said finally.

Jacob laughed lightly albeit shakily, at her joke. "Come now Bella, the fever will pass."

"I am not sick!" she shouted, standing up. She leaned over the table, staring at him evenly. "I am leaving you."

Jacob's smile remained there as they just stared at each other. Bella had wanted out for so long and it was almost impossible for her to restrain the relieved giggle that wanted to escape. She had waited long to say those words.

When Jacob made no move to respond, Bella slid by her chair and began walking toward their bedroom. Her bags had been packed all day and were currently sitting in the closet. It wasn't much—there were too many memories latched to everything else.

As Bella passed Jacob, his hand suddenly clasped around her wrist.

"No, Bella."

"Let go Jake."

His voice was steady and authoritive. "You aren't leaving me."

"There's someone else."

Jacob's grip tightened and Bella realized her mistake. She should not have said that.

He was glaring at her and she was starting to panic. He just wasn't _letting go_. She knew this would be hard, but she didn't expect this. _This_ was starting to feel like violence and her body was urging her to run.

_But he just wouldn't LET GO._

"Let me go Jake!" she shouted, looking around and yanking her arm uselessly.

"No _Bells_," he hissed, eyes narrowed into slits. "You are _MY WIFE_!" his voice was loud and spit flicked onto her face.

That was when his grip tightened and she heard a snap.

She screamed at the pain in her wrist, thinking it must be broken, but Jacob wasn't letting go. He knew he had hurt her and he was _smiling_.

Desperate, Bella grabbed his plate and in a sudden movement, smashed it over his head. Beef and gravy dripped down his face and he released her for a long enough moment for Bella to run away. She was close to the door, but she could hear him barreling after her.

She tried to open the door, but he was already there, shoving it shut and trapping her against it. She kicked his shin, wishing he hadn't been so close. She would have destroyed his manhood.

He grabbed his leg, allowing Bella time to dart away. She ran through the house, calculating the logistics of her jumping the fence in the backyard.

Her odds weren't good.

That didn't matter though because she never made it to the backyard.

Jacob grabbed her from behind, closing his fist around a large chunk of her hair and yanking it so roughly that Bella wondered if she would have a bald spot.

When she fell to the floor, he towered over her.

"You are MY WIFE, BELLS." His foot connected with her stomach and she cringed, curling into herself in pain. "YOU ARE MY PROPERTY," he sneered as he stomped on her ankle.

She was in so much pain.

Jacob grabbed her hair and began to drag her back through the hall and Bella's hands reached in instinct for the walls, looking for the slightest of crevices to hold onto.

The walls were _too smooth_.

Jacob dragged her into the bathroom and Bella blinked up at the florescent lighting, unable to see anything through the bright light, through the pain.

Jacob crouched down on top of her with one knee on either side of her chest. She tried to claw at him, punch him, but he retrained her arms.

He kissed her lips, tasting the copper of blood in her mouth.

He produced a knife from behind his back and Bella wondered when he had the chance to grab that.

"Jacob, please," she implored.

She was hurt. She was scared.

She was going to die.

"Till death do us part," he mumbled as he plunged the knife into her chest.

It was over for Jacob and Bella.

But the pair of eyes that had watched this scene play out from afar—he knew.

This was just the prelude.

Here comes the fun part.

***


	10. Languid

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Languid**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella**

**Rating:**** M**

***

Languid

***

It's funny how much sleep affects you.

When you give up nightmarish things and are determined to leave them behind, and chug endless amounts of energy drinks—anything to give you that hit of energy.

You lose more than sleep—you lose emotion.

Exhaustion colors the world gray. A contradiction, I know. You stare off into space and nothing matters anymore. Your chest seems empty and your ribs lose purpose without something to guard.

I press the barrel to my temple and wonder if the mouth would've been better.

This never would have been so easy if I could feel.

***


	11. Lithe

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Lithe**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Edward/Bella**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Lithe

***

I could feel her resolve crumble as I pulled her to me.

There weren't titles for what we were. I knew she wanted a title, and she knew I couldn't give it to her. Still, her lips worked in tandem with mine and her body moved readily as I lowered her to the bed.

She was lithe, flexible in body and mind.

She could never forget the pure poetry our sounds became as they mingled. The way our skin painted the other artfully.

Tradition and right and wrong fueled the guilt in her belly, but she could never deny this.

***


	12. Restraint

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Restraint**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Restraint

***

Bella's breath whooshes passed her lips as a whispered scream, her lungs constricting as her heart pumps blood through her veins—to his lips. His hand slips under the back of her shirt, gliding across her skin in soothing strokes.

She tugs on his hair lightly, focusing her remaining strength into the action. He lowers her rag doll body to the lush mixture of spearmint grass and purple petals. His thumb moves up and down the skin on her side, pausing to caress her hip bone with each pass as he leans on his elbow and laps at her neck.

***


	13. Willing

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Willing**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Willing

***

I walked into his bedroom holding a tray of pancakes, hash browns, and orange juice. The look was complete with a flower in a vase and a fake smile.

I have been living with Charlie for a year now—taking over household responsibilities and in between school and homework, I was also keeping Charlie alive.

Charlie had been sick for quite some time, although no one knew about it. I suppose he wanted to die without a fuss—he was never one to be overemotional like Renee and hated being coddled.

Lucky or not—whichever way you'd like to take it—Charlie passed out while at the station. If not for that one moment of showing weakness in public, I'm sure none of us would have known.

The doctor he had been seeing agreed to keep his condition quiet, but his deputy wasn't under such limitations.

When we received the call, I knew what I would have to do. Charlie needed someone at home to take care of him.

So we ignored his mumbled arguments of being fine and I enrolled at Fork's High. At school, all I got were pity-filled glances like they were afraid that staring at me for too long would transfer my situation to them.

I spent most of my free time in the library. People didn't tend to dwell there, so I didn't have to suffer through their annoying pity or phony smiles.

I was used to those smiles—the kind that said _there's nothing happy about your situation, but I'm emotionally crippled, so let's just pretend everything is peachy_.

I loathed those smiles, especially when one of them got stuck on my face.

Like right now.

Renee always said that if your time is limited, then enjoy yourself while you can. That's why I didn't protest nearly as much as I should have when Charlie asked for a real meal for breakfast this morning.

The doctor told him he only had ten months left a year ago, so I knew it would be any time now. I couldn't refuse his request when he might not live another day to ask for it again.

"Good morning Charlie," I greeted in the cheeriest voice I could muster.

While balancing the tray on one arm, I slid the curtains open. The Sun was hidden by clouds as usual. I moved to the foot of the bed, debating on whether to wake him up, or reheat the food later when he did on his own.

"Charlie?"

I nudged gently, but he didn't stir. His skin felt like ice.

"Charlie?" I repeated in a strangled gasp.

The tray fell from my hands, the sounds of shattering glass and spilled orange juice morphed into a faint buzz as I leapt to his side.

He's dead.

Black smoke billowed out of some indefinable point in the room, gathering at the foot of his bed until it created a cloaked figure.

We stared at each other for several minutes, unmoving and silent. Although his face was shielded, I could feel his eyes roaming across the scene.

"Who are you?" I asked in a raspy voice.

"You know who I am." His voice was deep and full of authority.

"Charlie…" I mumbled as I turned to stare at my father.

"It is his time."

As I stared at Charlie's face, I wondered how much dying would hurt.

"Take me instead."

"I leave with the soul I come for. No more, no less," he sounded surprised.

I wasn't backing down. "What difference does it make who you came for? As long as you get a soul—"

"It is not your time," his tone left no room for argument, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to try.

"Says who? _You?_ How could _you_ possibly know. People die _everyday_. For all you know, I could die at any moment. Death is unexpected," I said, glancing at Charlie's lumped form.

"Not for me."

I reached into the drawer behind me and pulled out Charlie's handgun.

"What if I made it my time? Could you take me then?"

"You won't die. It is not yet your time," his voice was still strong, but I could sense a bit of unease.

Maybe he wasn't as all knowing about death as he was trying to lead me to believe.

I cocked the gun.

"Want to test that theory?"

He stared at me for a moment—my legs, arms, face, hands. My hands were steady. He cocked his head to the side as he just stared at me.

"He is old. He has lived his life. He does not have much left. You… You are young. You have not really lived at all." I pressed the gun harder into my skin at his words.

"You would trade places with him? You would give up your life?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes."

I couldn't accept this as the end. I had been keeping Charlie alive for a year and if there was anything I could do to keep him from dying now, I would do it.

"Once you make the choice, there is no going back. Your life on Earth will be over."

"I don't care."

He stood there, stoic and silent. There was no breathing or shifting of weight. He was far from human.

He lifted his hand between us, his cloak sliding down slightly to reveal ghostly white fingertips.

"Take my hand and the deal shall be made."

I looked down at the gun and back at Charlie. If he knew what I was doing, it would kill him.

"Will he know?"

"What?"

"Will he know what I did," I asked quietly, unable to bear the thought of his guilt.

His hand remained outstretched. "Not if you do not wish it so."

"I don't want him to know."

I slowly stepped closer to the cloaked man.

"There will be no going back."

"I know."

I took his hand, feeling cold electricity shock my body before I fell into oblivion.

***


	14. Worry

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Worry**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** K**

**A/N: Another drabble for you. These little entries are 100 words. I'm pressed for time, so there will probably be more of these.**

***

Worry

***

There once was a girl named Bella with long brown hair

She would admire the outside world from upon her stair

Often she wished to leave her perch

But she was kept under such close watch—the idea was absurd.

He found her when she was young

Left in the forest alone, abandoned

He worried for her—she was so very breakable, you see

Often he would imagine her death and how lonely he would be.

He was told that should she step outside he would lose her

So he ignored her pleas and gave what he thought she deserved.

***


	15. Earnest

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Earnest**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** K**

**A/N: I can't exactly remember Kindergarten, so if there are things that don't add up—like finger painting, cubbies, or paste—sorry. If the dialogue isn't childish enough, sorry again. I didn't have time to sit in on a Kindergarten class to observe their behavior.**

***

Earnest

***

Bella held her father's hand as she walked shyly into the red bricked building. She saw the cream colored stockings and black block shoes of a woman standing before her, but she refused to look up. Today was her first day of Kindergarten and she was terrified.

"Hello! What's your name?"

Bella squeaked at the woman's voice and darted behind her father's legs.

"She's just a little shy," Charlie explained, swiping at imaginary crumbs in his moustache.

"Oh I understand completely. I have had quiet kids in the past. Usually it just takes a little time for them to get acquainted with the other kids and then BAM! They're little chatterboxes!"

Charlie was a little uncomfortable with the woman's babbling and he was going to be late for his shift if he stayed any longer, so he decided to rush things.

"Ok Bella, it's time to go with the nice lady," he urged, looking down at Bella who was still hiding behind his legs with her tiny arms wrapped around one of his boots.

Bella shook her head, burying her face further into the rough denim of his pant leg.

Charlie sighed and bent down to pry her off. He guided her tiny hand into the woman's and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll pick you up after my shift. Okay?"

…

Bella picked up a juice box and placed the straw in between the gap of her two front teeth before taking a sip. She smiled as she sucked down the fruit punch HI-C, frowning when she noticed the little boy watching her with his head tilted in curiosity.

She stared back at the little boy with the penny colored hair and gripped her juice box tighter when he began to walk over.

"Hi."

"Hi," Bella answered shyly.

The boy held out his hand and Bella laughed as she shook it.

"My name's Edward."

"I'm Bella," she giggled.

Edward smiled a big toothy grin at her. Bella stared at him in awe.

"Your smile's kind of crooked," she blurted out.

Edward grimaced and pressed his lips shut. She immediately felt terrible.

"No! I like it!"

Edward looked at her like she was insane, but he believed her and eventually smiled.

"I have this gap between my front teeth," she gestured wildly at her face.

Edward laughed and Bella was so happy to finally have a friend.

They were playing in the sandbox. Bella was the princess who had been captured by Kermit the Frog and Edward was the knight coming to save her. He was about to cross the moat to storm the castle when some other kids walked by.

"Hey kid," the big one said to Edward.

Bella tried to hide behind the castle because he was _really big_.

"What are you doing?"

Edward looked confused. "I'm storming the castle to save the princess…"

The boy shook his head. "No, what are you doing playing with a _girl_."

Bella looked up then.

"Don't you know they have cooties?" All of the other kids started yelling "_ewww"_ and she could feel her face turning red.

Edward looked at her like she had lied to him somehow and she was about to tell him she didn't have cooties when one of the other kids started kicking sand in her face.

Bella yelled for him to stop because it was getting in her eyes, but he wouldn't and that's when she started to cry. She got up and ran away from the stupid sandbox, sobbing and getting snot everywhere as she realized she was wrong.

Bella didn't have any friends.

…

Bella sat in a corner with her knees pulled up to her chest. She wanted to go home and never come back. She hated school.

"Want some?" a boy asked.

She had chosen this corner to hide in because everyone avoided it. She had heard some of the other kids talking about the weird boy who would sit here eating paste.

"No thanks," she sniffed.

The boy had curly blonde hair and was wearing overalls. He wiped most of the glue off his mouth and hand, setting the jar down.

"I'm Jazz!" he smiled.

"Bella," she answered back, smiling despite the tears still rolling down her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?"

"Some boys said I had cooties and kicked sand in my eyes," she hiccupped.

"They sound like doo-doo heads," Jasper nodded and Bella laughed.

"They make fun of me for eating glue," he said, moving the jar closer to his chest. "I just like how it tastes, is all."

"My mommy has chap stick that tastes like strawberries… I'm not supposed to eat that though," Bella pursed her lips thoughtfully.

…

Charlie tried to figure out why Bella was so resistant to returning to school the next day, but she wouldn't tell him why. He figured she was just acting out because she missed her mother. He could understand that—he missed her too.

Bella held onto her Powerpuff Girls lunchbox like it was a lifeline when Charlie left her with the weird teacher. She led Bella back into the classroom and helped her put her lunchbox into her very own cubby. She was left alone after that.

Today she was finger painting while Jazz glued Popsicle sticks together. Jazz was kind of weird, but Bella didn't mind. He wasn't mean to her and really, eating glue wasn't that bad.

Not as bad as kicking sand in her face.

Bella was just about to finish a masterpiece—a tree, a sun, _and_ a flower—when she felt a sharp tug on her hair. She shrieked and grabbed her pigtail, forgetting about the paint on her hands. When she turned around, she saw the boys who had kicked sand in her face yesterday, snickering at her.

"Grab it, Edward!" the big one shouted.

Bella whipped around, her eyes widening as Edward reached for the picture she had been working on. She grabbed the other end before he could run off with it, creating a game of tug-a-war.

This wasn't a game though. This was Bella's artwork and the boy who used to be her friend.

"Let go, Bella!" he growled.

Bella glared back. "No! It's my picture! _You_ let go!"

Edward suddenly yanked it harshly and Bella gasped as the paper created a cut in her skin as it slid out of her fingers. She stared at the red liquid flowing from the little mark in shock.

Eventually the terror set in.

Everyone froze as Bella started screaming. Edward just stared at her finger in horror.

…

Bella wasn't wearing pigtails today. Her hair was wavy and covered most of her face as she sat on the floor looking down. She had a Powerpuff Girls band-aid wrapped around her finger, but she couldn't get the sight of blood out of her head.

Edward stood in front of her and she tensed immediately.

"Bella?"

She stared at the dirt under her fingernails.

"Bella, I'm sorry."

She stared at the scuff marks on her shoes.

"I really like your picture."

She looked up just enough to see a piece of paper in his hands, but refused to look at his face. There was purple paint all over the grass from when she tried to keep it from Edward. The same purple paint she had to wash out of her hair the night before.

"It's ruined," she mumbled sadly.

"No it's not. I like the purple grass," Edward argued.

"I don't have cooties," Bella suddenly said as she tugged on her hair.

"I know."

Bella looked back at the picture.

"I'm really sorry."

Bella finally looked up at Edward's face. She instantly felt bad for the look on his face.

"I know," she said.

Edward smiled with relief and Bella couldn't help but return it as he handed her the picture.

…

**o:0…Years later…0:o**

…

"Come on!" Bella exclaimed. "I have something to show you!" she said earnestly.

Rather than wait for his answer, she grabbed his hand and drug him after her like she usually did.

He always let her.

Bella's pigtails swung back and forth as she dodged fallen logs and dead leaves. Edward followed her lead, knowing not to step on any dead leaves.

Bella's mom had told her that plants could talk and that's why she shouldn't take roses from the neighbor's yard. One day, Bella had accidentally stepped on a dead leaf and as the little thing crunched under her feet, she heard a scream.

Bella thought she had killed the already dead leaf and cried for hours. The scream had actually come from Edward when a bug fell in his hair. He was so embarrassed that he never told Bella the truth.

He's felt bad about that ever since.

Bella stopped abruptly and whipped around, almost causing Edward to run into her.

"We're here," she whispered with a small smile that continued to grow.

Edward moved passed her, holding a branch out of the way so that he could see. Beyond the closure of the forest and shadow they were in, was a vast clearing. There was a tree in the very middle surrounded by wild flowers and the greenest grass either of them had ever seen.

Bella skipped forward, smiling brightly as she began to twirl in circles.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she beamed, her eyes more shiny than Edward could remember.

She practically shimmered in the rare sunlight.

"Wow," Edward finally whispered.

Bella grabbed his hand again and pulled him to the tree. She flitted around the strange tree, paying little attention to the swaying vines of its branches.

"Watch this!"

Bella released his hand and ran to the trunk of the tree.

"May I have an apple?" she asked politely before pressing her lips to the bark in a brief kiss.

Edward worried for her sanity until something slid down the vine closest to her.

A shiny, big red apple.

Now he worried for his own sanity.

As Bella opened her mouth to take a bite, Edward snapped out of his daze.

"No Bella! You shouldn't eat that!"

Bella looked at him quizzically, but paused mid-bite. "Why not?"

"Because it—it's unsanitary! You could get sick." Edward knew what he was talking about. His father is a doctor, after all.

"I won't get sick," Bella shook her head, her nose scrunched up.

Edward pulled at his hair as Bella took a bite. He watched her chew, convinced she would fall dead at any moment.

"Want some?" Bella extended the apple toward Edward.

"No I don't want some!" Edward exclaimed, horrified.

Bella shrugged and took another bite, confused as to what Edward was so worried about. These apples were _way_ better than the ones her mom used to find at the supermarket.

Bella walked back over to the trunk. "May I have an apple for my friend?" she asked politely of the tree.

Edward watched another apple slide down one of the vines, more than a little freaked out when it landed gently beside him.

"In case you change your mind," Bella smiled.

Edward made no move to take the apple and Bella frowned as something suddenly occurred to her.

"You won't tell anyone about this place, will you Edward?" she asked quietly.

Edward's brows furrowed. "I don't know…why?"

Bella began to fidget, uncomfortable for the first time since she had entered the meadow. "I just…I don't want anything to happen to our magic tree. If anyone else knew…"

"You're crazy," Edward stated, noticing how Bella had called it _our_ magic tree.

Bella's eyes glistened and Edward was reminded of the first time they had met—the first time he had made her cry. The first time he had hurt her.

"I won't tell," he vowed.

"You won't?" she looked so hopeful that Edward did not doubt the truth of his answer.

"It will be our little secret."

***


	16. Taut

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Taut**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Taut

***

He whispered to her and Bella practically turned to jelly. She pulled it out, watching him reach for it and admiring his long muscular arms. Taut skin and ruffled hair, the scent of peppermint in the air.

Her mouth watered.

She watched the way his body shifted as he leaned and she wished it wasn't so damn hot in the room. As she handed it to him, she imagined keeping her hands lodged in his hair forever.

As he smiled at her with that crooked grin, she thought…

_Did this happen to everyone when he asked them for a pen?_

***


	17. Morose

Morose and Bitter have been removed.


	18. Vibrant

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Vibrant**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Edward/Bella**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Vibrant

***

Bella Swan was always so vibrant.

We became friends, I became her confidante. It didn't take much. Just time, really. Despite how wonderful her life seemed, she was living an unhappy life. She ignored it for the most part and tried to move forward.

She was always trying to be happy.

It didn't take much to destroy that.

I started out little—an insult here and there. It just takes a little time to destroy someone's spirit. But if you're committed, it _can _be done.

Being so close to her just made it _so easy_.

Bella Swan isn't vibrant anymore.

***


	19. Collide

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Collide**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Edward/Bella**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Collide

***

There was no way I could make it in time. I would be seen.

I watched the van collide with Bella's body.

There was a moment of silence in the chaos, where everything seemed to freeze. I realized what a mistake holding myself back had been because how could there not be blood?

I was at her side without a thought, leaning over her mangled body. Her eyes were so wide and her bloody lips…her bloody lips…

I bent down to take a taste.

My tongue swept across her lips before stealing a kiss.

_I'm sorry I couldn't save you._

***


	20. Slip

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Slip**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Alice**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Slip

***

"Why is he here?"

"I don't know, but if he's truly revealing himself to you, there must be something going on in that corporeal head of his."

"Why me? What makes me so special?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

"Why the drugs?"

"My brother was never happy—not really. He wasn't really good at pretending, but that didn't really matter so much because people don't want to deal with the bad stuff. They'd rather go on pretending."

"He started using drugs to make pretending easier, but I thought he had kicked the habit for good."

"He must have slipped."

***


	21. Fragments

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Fragments**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Charlie**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Fragments

***

"Where have you been?" he yelled.

I flinched back, considering his question. The last thing I can remember is climbing into bed. I had noticed the window open and as I got up to close it…

Nothing.

I couldn't remember anything beyond that.

"Two days, Isabella. For _two days_ you've been gone. You left no note, never called… I came home and you were gone!" he was still shouting.

I glanced at the clock, trying to make sense of the time lost.

Brief and jagged fragments of memories flashed in my mind, but I couldn't make any sense of it.

***


	22. Rapacious

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Rapacious**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Rapacious

***

"If you can evade capture for ten minutes, you will live."

He held my shackles up, forcing me to lift my arms.

"When the alarm goes off, you will know the ten minute mark has been reached. If you run after that, you will die."

He removed the shackles from my wrists and fingered the bruised skin.

"The hunt begins."

I stared at him.

"_Run_," he whispered.

Needing no further urging, I took off into the forest. My chest and legs burned as I ran for my life.

He is the hunter and I am his prey.

_I'm so dead._

***


	23. Red

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Red**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** M**

***

Red

***

"Bloody Mary," shallow breathing, "Bloody Mary…" pause for dramatic effect, "Bloody Mary."

The lights flickered before clicking off with a loud pop. The room flashed with a sudden strike of lightning, illuminating the frightened faces of the girls. Feminine shrieks seemed to be coming from all around once the darkness returned.

There was the sound of a match being lit and all of the girls turned to stare at the girl whose face glowed from the shine of the flame.

"Is everyone okay?" Alice asked as she shined the light around the room.

A chorus of affirmative answers was heard throughout the room.

"The storm," I mumbled.

"Right. The storm must have caused the power to go out," Alice explained.

Everyone was quiet for a moment as thunder seemed to literally shake the house.

"Do you know where your circuit breaker is?" I asked.

My knowledge pertaining to blackouts didn't extend beyond what I had seen in movies, but I held a silent hope that maybe someone here would know what to do. From the way everyone was just standing around, I highly doubted it.

"In the basement, I think," Alice answered. "Who wants to go with me?"

No one said a word. The truth was that I didn't exactly want to go either, but I would never make her go alone.

"I'll go."

Sensing that no one else was brave enough to climb down the stairs to a pitch black basement, she sighed and held out her hand to me, which I happily took. There wasn't any awkwardness about whether this was a too intimate move—we both knew how easily we could get separated in the darkness.

"Wait!" Jessica piped up just as we were about to exit out the door. "What will we do for light?"

Alice glanced around at the fear ridden faces of her "friends" before handing her a match. "Don't burn my house down," she warned as she let Jessica light a match using the sandpaper on her matchbook.

"There might be a candle under the sink in my bathroom," she added as an afterthought before we left.

Alice kept the match held in front of us and I trailed my empty hand along the wall.

"Do you know what to do once we find the circuit breaker?" I asked hopefully.

She turned to glance at me, smiling sadly. "No, I was kind of hoping you did," she confessed.

"What time are your parents going to be home?" I asked, wishing I owned a cell phone.

I was certain Charlie could have talked me through it if I had a way to call him. Incidentally, none of the other girls had phones either. Alice had specified in the invite that this was to be a girl's night and that apart from hair styling tools, technology was not allowed. I wondered if maybe one of the girls had smuggled in their phone anyway.

Alice, whose phone was usually super glued to her hand, had actually handed her phone over to her boyfriend to remove temptation. By the way that her hand was twitching, I wondered if she was regretting doing that.

"I think my brother might know," I could practically hear the grimace in her voice.

Alice's older brother was this mystery that we never spoke of. Every time I came over, he would either be gone, or locked away in his room the entire time. Even when I stayed for dinner some nights—and they had full out dinner at the dining room table family meals—he didn't come down.

I had questioned her about it once…and only once. When I mentioned her brother it was like an abrupt shift in climate. Her face became as fake and plastic as the Barbies she still refuses to trash. Her voice which was usually upbeat and ready to transition into sarcasm at a moment's notice became a phony sort of sincerity.

"Oh Isabella I really love your shoes! You have got to tell me where you got those!" she had practically sung while moving far too close into my personal space and closing her fingers around my wrist in an almost painful grip.

I wanted to press the issue and at any other time I would have, but honestly? She was scaring the shit out of me.

Alice never called me Isabella.

Alice wouldn't be caught _dead_ in those shoes.

She stopped us in front of what must have been his door, but did not make a move to open it.

"Alice?"

She sighed deeply before bringing her other hand up to knock on the door. We waited for a couple minutes, but there was no answer.

"Maybe he's not there?" I wasn't sure why I was whispering.

Alice sighed again. "He's here," she said quietly as she pushed the door open.

The room seemed darker than the rest of the house, but Alice didn't have a problem navigating us around unseen furniture. She didn't hesitate to open the sliding glass door like she had with his bedroom door. She pulled me through the doorway to a balcony. The balcony was uncovered apart from the farthest corner which was sheltered enough for a person to stand under.

Leaning against the wall stood a tall man—young, but definitely not a boy—smoking a cigarette. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and slowly puckered his lips, releasing a swirl of smoke. He flicked the cigarette and slid it back between his lips.

My clothes were soaked in moments—in more ways than one.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at us for only a second, before resuming staring off into the forest again.

"Edward…" she trailed off, but he nodded at her. Dismissive.

He nodded at her like he knew what she wanted. Like he could somehow read her mind.

It was kind of irritating.

"The power's out," I interjected because we had been standing there for a couple minutes and no one had really said anything.

He hadn't even really acknowledged me either, which I found incredibly rude.

"No shit," he puffed out a smoke ring, smirking like he was hot shit.

Alice shot me a dirty look and I couldn't even stop myself from returning it. I was her friend. This was her brother. Social norms require her to introduce us and for him to look like he gave a crap for a least a moment.

"Can you…"

"Yeah," he answered and put out his cigarette.

What was it with these two and verbal communication?

He walked passed us without a word and Alice followed in much the same fashion. I was left standing in the rain for a moment before I realized they weren't going to wait for me. Alice wasn't going to grab my hand, and no one was going to _say anything_.

With my luck I'll probably get lost.

I hurried to catch up with them after shutting the sliding door behind me and couldn't stop myself from apologizing when I collided with Alice because _some of us_ were polite.

I held onto the banister for dear life as we climbed down the stairs to the first floor, but once we made our way to the basement door, I decided to stay behind. From what I could tell, there wasn't really anything to hold onto when climbing down those stairs. I remembered Alice talking about her parents' remodeling ideas and how this was just one of them that had fallen wayside.

Neither her nor her brother seemed to notice my absence when I just stopped following, so I didn't bother telling them. If they wanted to ignore me, then so be it.

I felt along the kitchen counter, trying to imagine the house's floor plan by sifting through memories. If this was the kitchen, then the living room should be somewhere to my right…

BAM. Coffee table. _I'm sorry knees._

I couldn't find the couch, though I was pretty sure the coffee table was in front of it, so I didn't know how that was possible. I felt around the air blindly, while one hand rubbed at my bruised knees. At least now when Alice tried to force me into a skirt, I could use them. Surely pants were cuter than purple knees.

The lights flickered on and I did a quick little victory dance, spinning around in a little circle. I stopped when I noticed the couch.

"I got you now, you stupid fucker." I stared at the stupid piece of furniture with narrowed eyes.

I turned back to the doorway as I heard an irritated sigh. Edward was standing there, scowling at the wall. He moved passed me to sit on the couch I had been moments away from pouncing on.

"Alice, your friend is talking to the couch."

"This friend has a name," I grounded out, tired of being ignored.

"I don't care what your name is."

I glared at the stupid man who was just sitting there and staring at the blank television screen, acting like I didn't even exist.

"Let's go Bella," Alice mumbled tiredly.

Edward didn't say anything, but as I turned around and followed Alice, I wondered if I had imagined the smirk on his lips.

Alice and I climbed back up the stairs, a little less tense than we had been since we went to Edward. At least, that was until someone started screaming.

We ran through the hallways and burst into Alice's room to find Rosalie banging on the bathroom door, while the rest of the girls just stood around staring. The screaming was coming from within.

"What's going on?" I yelled, trying to compete with the volume of the screaming.

"Lauren won't open the door," Rosalie huffed.

I had always hated Lauren, but I guess things like that don't matter when she screaming bloody murder and locked away in a bathroom.

"Lauren? Are you okay? Please open the door, Lauren," I shouted at the door, trying to sound calm.

Just more screaming.

"I have a key!" I heard Alice say from somewhere behind me.

Rosalie and I moved out of the way as Alice opened the door.

Lauren was hunched over on the ground and although I couldn't see her face, I couldn't ignore the blood smeared on the bathroom tiles and her hands.

"Lauren?" I choked out as the smell of rust filled my nostrils and I tried not to faint.

Alice bent down to her level while Rosalie remained standing in the doorway.

"Lauren, what happened?" Lauren's only response to Alice's close proximity was to stop screaming. Alice tried again. "Lauren, what's wrong—"

Lauren grabbed Alice's shoulders and tilted her head up, finally showing her face. There was blood running down her cheeks from two gaping holes where her eyes should have been. It looked like they had been scratched from their sockets.

"SHE TOOK MY EYES!"

"She?" I whispered.

"BLOODY MARY!"

Everyone started screaming, but I couldn't.

All I could do was stare into Lauren's red eyeless sockets. The angry red scratches that reached from her eyebrows down to her cheeks.

Those pools of red gathered on the floor.

***


	24. Awe

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**Prompt:**** Awe**

**Penname:**** Miss Snazzy**

**Pairing:**** Bella/Edward**

**Rating:**** T**

***

Awe

***

I stared out the window, sighing deeply as the clouds drifted across the gray sky. I often wished I could be one of them—unhindered by obligation and free to roam the Earth.

These moments of reflection were coming quite frequently now and although they made me a little sad, I truly cherished them. These thoughts were stress-free and merely observations of how inadequate my life has become.

None of that necessarily worried me at these times because I felt more like an outsider analyzing my life. Of course when the moment passes, I'll be open to the dreary feelings once more.

The life of a cloud seemed so glorious because I felt trapped.

Here I was closed off in a tiny three-walled cubicle working Monday through Friday, nine to five, at a dead end job and doing something I hated.

One of my co-workers, James, took me out a couple times. I wasn't really interested and would have declined if it weren't for my friends always pestering me to go out more. We didn't really "click" on our first date, but I decided to give him another chance when my friend Jacob proclaimed I didn't have any sex organs.

I knew what he was doing—trying to goad me into proving him wrong. I knew this, but the way everyone laughed at his comment annoyed me enough to fall for it. Besides, it isn't like I actually disliked the dates. They were fun…I just wasn't really interested in James romantically. Even though we always went Dutch, I felt guilty for leading him on.

One day our boss Victoria called me into her office. Turns out she had a thing for James, but was unable to date him herself due to her superior position. I won't get into the details, but she said something along the lines of "Get away from my man, Bitch. Or you're fired."

Now normally I wouldn't give into a threat like that so easily, but I _needed_ this job.

I hated the mandatory pencil skirts, stockings, and heels. I hated the daily routine of doing my make-up at red lights and having to suck down massive amounts of coffee. I truly loathe my job, but that doesn't change the fact that I need that bi-monthly paycheck.

So I broke it off with him to save my job and because really, I didn't like him that much anyway. I felt guilty and cowardly despite my disinterest, but it had to be done.

What a mistake that had been.

He took the news pretty hard—apparently he had really liked me. He wouldn't stop calling and begging me to give him another chance. He sent all kinds of gifts to my apartment—bouquets, chocolates, even singing telegrams.

I was practically going out of my mind with the number of voicemails, text messages, and letters that he actually _slid_ underneath my door. No postage stamp.

By that time, I was sleeping with a shotgun beside my bed.

One night he stood outside my apartment, banging on the door and begging for me to let him in. He claimed he loved me and wanted to make up for whatever he thought he had done wrong.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore and told him if he didn't leave I would call the cops.

James is a pretty persuasive guy and could get away with just about anything. It was that quality that really bothered me at work when he would get special treatment. Still, James knew he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of this if the police showed up.

One of the benefits of being the daughter of the Chief of Police was that every officer in the surrounding states knew my name and would be by my side in a flash if I called for a ride, let alone something like this.

He left then and we hadn't spoken since.

A month later, I was still a little creeped out, but thankful it was all over.

Or so I thought.

"Bella!" Victoria shouted as she skidded to a halt in front of my cubicle. Her usually sleeked back into a ponytail red hair was cascading down her head in wild curls. Her hands were shaking and her face distressed.

Victoria _never_ lost her cool.

"What happened?" I asked, shooting up from my seat.

"It's James! He's standing on the roof threatening to jump if you don't go up there and talk to him!"

I paled at her words. "But I—"

"There isn't time!" she exclaimed as she grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the stairs.

I pointed at the elevators. "Why don't we take—"

"There isn't time!" she shouted again before practically carrying me up the several flights of stairs. Luckily we were fairly close to the top; otherwise I would have passed out from exertion. How those women in horror movies run with heels, I'll never know.

The door to the roof flew open as Victoria shoved it with more strength than I thought anyone that thin could possess. The force of the wind pulled my scrunchy loose, sending my hair whipping around my face. That was what I got for losing my elastic ouch less hair ties.

James stood along the edge, framed by the massive amounts of crusty pigeon crap that nature had collected on top of the building. His long blonde hair was tied back at the base of his neck like always, but lacked its usual shine. It looked greasy and frizzed around his face with the sweat collected on his brow.

Victoria stepped toward him. "I brought her! See James? Please don't jump! Please don't—"

"Go away, Victoria," he cut her off.

"But James, I—"

James slid his toe to the side so that part of his foot rested only on air. "Vicky…" he said smoothly. "You wouldn't want me to jump, would you?"

Victoria shook her head, her eyes wide with fear.

"Then leave us," he sneered.

I watched Victoria back away, until she disappeared behind the door. I brushed a piece of hair out of the corner of my mouth in annoyance. When I looked back at James, he was staring at my lips.

"Kiss me, Bella."

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "No!"

"Stop playing coy. We both know you love me, so just admit it."

"I don't…"

"You do," he argued. "You do because you're here. If you didn't love me, you wouldn't be here trying to stop me from jumping."

"Yes I would. I may not love you, but I don't want you to die," I said slowly, my gaze attached to his foot which was almost hovering over the edge.

An angered sound escaped him and I squeaked in fear as he grabbed me harshly by the upper arms. "Stop it! You love me, I know you do!" he shouted in my face.

"Let go of me, James."

"I will when you admit it!"

"Let go of me!" I yelled as I struggled in his arms, weary of the close proximity of the ledge.

"Admit it!" As the spit from him mouth splashed across my cheek, something in me snapped.

"I don't love you, James. I _never_ loved you. Now stop being a psychotic asshole and get your hands off of me!"

When my moment of fury—something so rare and all consuming—passed, I was left with a belligerent James, digging his fingernails into my skin. I regretted what I had said as I stared at the crazed look in his eyes.

"LOVE ME!" he screamed, shaking me roughly.

Many things happened.

James's rough movement caused me to take a step back. The sudden pressure of my full weight on that foot made the heel snap. The broken shoe slid along the concrete as it made contact with a pile of fresh pigeon crap. I fell off the ledge as James's hands loosened at the sound of the crack of my shoe.

The wind whipped my hair into my face, so that I couldn't see. I suppose I was lucky—I wouldn't have to watch the concrete creep towards me. I imagined my body splattering upon impact, coating the bystanders in flesh and blood.

That was when I hit something. _Hard_.

There was glass—shattering around me, slicing into my forearm. Was the pain of death supposed to be so…sharp? Where had the glass come from? What happened to the wind?

I opened my eyes.

I stared in awe at the man I was laying on top of.

He had a strong jaw with high cheek bones and dark hair. His eyes were clenched shut, so I allowed my gaze to travel across his body too. Smooth skin, abs, arms, muscles, chiseled. He was _shirtless_.

He was perfect.

He suddenly rolled us over so that he was hovering above me. His eyes were still closed. I should have been thinking of survival techniques, but I couldn't. There was a _half-naked_ _man on top of me_.

I held my breath as one of his hands reached up to the side of my face. I stared at his eyelids as he slid a pair of sunglasses over them. That was when I felt it—that feeling you get when someone is looking at you really hard. Despite the lenses, I knew he was staring at _me_. And rather intensely, it seemed.

"You're hurt," he whispered finally.

I glanced down at my arm—blood brimming over glass, creating a little pool between my skin and the floor of…wherever we were.

"I'm fine," I said because it was all I could think to say.

He sighed and shook his head as he moved to sit beside me. I did the same, mirroring his position. I winced as he picked up my arm.

"The glass has to come out," he said, looking at me with a silent question for permission.

I nodded and proceeded to grind my teeth as he plucked each of the shards of glass out. Being a frequent flier at the hospital for various injuries, I knew a thing or two about glass. The doctor always needed some sort of tweezers utensil and a lot of time. This guy finished in half the time using his fingers.

"Where are we?"

"A storage room in your building."

"How did we get here?" I asked.

"Through the window," he answered simply.

I looked through the massive and jagged hole our makeshift entrance had made. Chunks of glass littered the navy carpet of what appeared to be a mostly empty storage room. A glimpse of gold caught my eye and I noticed the long golden drapes of a room in the building across from us fluttering through a large open window.

"Where did you come from?"

"Through my window." His gaze darted to the hole. "Sorry about the landing," he grimaced.

"You live there?" I asked, pointing at the dark room across from us.

"Yes."

"Wait… Are you saying you—"

"Jumped through my window, caught you mid-fall, and crashed us through that window into this room?" he cut me off.

I nodded with wide eyes.

"Yes."

"I know what you are."

"Do you?" he chuckled. His gaze drifted across the room, his eyebrows arched together in concentration.

"What are you looking for?"

"I need to bandage your arm, but I don't see anything I can use…" he trailed off as I started unbuttoning my blouse. "What are you doing?"

"You said you needed something to bandage my arm, and since we didn't land in a hospital or a fabric store—"

"That doesn't mean you have to get naked!"

I stilled my hands on the third button to stare at him, one eyebrow raised. "Okay first of all, this wound needs to be bandaged. Second, who are you to talk about getting naked? What happened to your shirt?" I paused, letting a smug smile escape as he sat there blushing. "Third," I continued unbuttoning, "I have a tank top under this."

He slid a hand into his hair and tugged on the ends as he turned even redder. "Oh."

I handed him my blouse, but he looked reluctant to rip it. "Go ahead. I hate that shirt."

He tore it until it he had fashioned a long white strip of material and wrapped it around my arm delicately, but with enough pressure to prevent too much blood flow. We stood and I shifted my clothes to make sure nothing was showing. After what had happened, it was remarkable that I hadn't sustained anymore injuries.

"You're invincible?"

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well," I circled him, trailing a finger across his chest and wondering where this confidence had come from. There's something to be said about near death experiences that puts life into perspective. "I don't see any cuts even though you dove through a glass window…shirtless."

"The fact that you were able to jump such a distance and manage to catch me suggests the presence of other abilities," I added as I stopped to stand behind him. I stood up on my toes so that my lips were inches from his ear.

"Superhero," I whispered.

He tensed and I won't deny that I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Images of Clark Kent invaded my mind as I thought of all the possibilities. Too quick for me to process, he spun around so that he was standing behind me with his lips inches from my ear—swapping our positions.

"What if I'm not the hero?" he paused and I shivered at the phantom contact. "What if I'm the bad guy?" he whispered.

I turned around so that we were facing each other. With my hand splayed across his chest, I stared up at him—wishing I could see his eyes.

"You saved my life."

"Did I?" he chuckled humorlessly, making a pointed glance at my arm. "I did this. I should have never interfered."

I felt a sharp pain in my chest at his words.

"Right," I laughed bitterly, backing away. "Because being splattered on the street would have been so much better."

"I didn't mean it that way," he mumbled. "It's just…I just…I should have never interfered—"

"Well I'm sorry you regret saving my life." I glared at my arm, wondering why the hell I felt bad for just getting injured and not dying.

He placed his hands on my cheeks and gently turned my head until I was looking at him again. "You think I regret saving you?" he asked softly.

"You kind of make it seem that way."

"Well I don't. I don't regret saving you," he said with an unexpected amount of conviction. "I'm just sorry I wasn't more careful—people tend to get hurt around me. I'm happy you're alive," he smiled.

"I'm happy I'm alive too," I smiled back.

We stayed like that for a couple moments, until he realized how close we were, it seemed. He coughed awkwardly after releasing my face and taking a step back.

"So…"

"So?" he asked.

"What are you called?"

"That's a weird way to ask me for my name…"

"No…well, I mean, I _do_ want to know what your name is, but I was actually referring to what you're called as a superhero."

He ran a hand through his hair again. "I'm not a superhero."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Vigilante then?"

He sighed. "Edward."

"That's not very flashy."

"I don't think my parents were going for _flashy_ when they named me," he smirked

"You really don't have a name for your alter ego?" I asked doubtfully.

"Look. I _don't_ have an alter ego. I am _not_ a superhero. I'm just a normal guy who—"

"Who happens to have superhuman abilities that he sometimes uses to save strangers from pummeling to their death?"

I watched him rub his face roughly with his hands, clearly frustrated with the way this conversation was going. Did he honestly believe I was dumb enough to buy his lies?

"Let's not forget about all of those…mysterious cases," I added.

"Mysterious cases?"

I nodded. "You know…wanted criminals appearing on the police station's doorstep, bound and gagged? _Someone_ had to have left them there. It's not like they turned themselves in."

"How do you know about that?"

"My father's the Chief of Police in Forks. Word travels through the grapevine," I explained

Charlie wasn't one to reveal confidential items of a case to civilians, but I happened to overhear one of his conversations with one of the detectives here in Port Angeles the last time I visited him. After a lot of poking and prodding, he agreed to fill me in as long as I didn't investigate it any further. They suspected _someone_ was trying to take the law into their own hands, deliver justice or whatever, but who knew if the person was dangerous.

"This is bad…this is _very_ bad," he mumbled, eyes darting around the room for an exit.

"What's your favorite animal?" I asked, hoping the question would distract him. It seemed to work.

"Mountain lion. Why?" he asked curiously.

"Superheroes tend to name themselves based off of some sort of animal fetish. Batman, Catwoman—"

"Catwoman was a villain," he smirked.

"I was just trying to offer some more examples, but if you want to get all nit picky…then The Black Canary."

"You made that up."

"No I didn't! The Black Canary was a super heroine that had the ability to produce a high powered sonic scream called the _Canary Cry_."

We stood there staring at each other, until we eventually erupted into laughter.

"Okay," I giggled. "I am definitely a nerd."

"I find it endearing."

I blushed at the compliment and hid behind my hair as he continued to look at me. He must have realized what he was doing because he started shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well I should—"

"Mountain Lion Man," I blurted.

"What?"

"That could be your name. Mountain Lion Man."

I regretted the words as soon as they came out. Sometimes my so called _ideas_ needed to remain nonverbal. Sensing my embarrassment, he at least attempted to withhold his laughter.

"My name is Bella, by the way."

"I know."

"You know? How?"

"I've kind of been…keeping tabs on you," he admitted sheepishly.

I stared at him silently, prompting him to delve further into an explanation. Don't get me wrong—after the whole James thing, I was a little apprehensive about someone _keeping tabs_ on me, but I won't deny I wasn't a little…flattered.

"It's just that I've overheard you talking—I find your insights into most subjects to be very interesting," he rushed, "And then everyday at the same time, you're staring out that window up at the sky with this thoughtful look and I've always wondered what you were thinking, but could never hear it—"

"Wait," I stopped him, holding up my hand. "You say you've overheard me talking?"

He nodded—that sheepish expression returning.

"From where?"

He ran his hand through his hair, seemingly thinking of which lie to feed me this time. I was surprised when he actually told me the truth.

He pointed at the dark room with the golden drapes.

"You could hear me speaking…from all the way over there?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Do you have super hearing?"

"Yes."

"You said you couldn't hear my thoughts…but does that mean…can you…read _other_ people's minds?"

"Yes."

"Why can't you hear my thoughts?" I wondered aloud.

"I'm not sure," he admitted in disappointment.

Well that's a little unnerving. I filed that bit of information away for further thought later.

"Wow," I breathed. "Is there anything you can't do?"

His chuckle died at the sound of sirens.

"I should really go," he began making long strides toward the door. I wasn't ready for my time with him to end.

"Wait—" I reached out for his arm and he stopped.

He looked around frantically. "They can't find me here."

I released his arm, the words dying in my throat as he grabbed the doorknob.

"Shit," he mumbled. "They've already entered the building."

"Can't you hide in here or something?"

"No, it's too risky."

He stepped backward until he was against the wall, staring through the hole at the dark room with golden drapes.

"No," I moved in front of the window. "It's too far. You'll get hurt."

"I'll be fine. I'm a superhero, remember?" he smirked.

I lifted my chin in defiance, unwilling to back down.

"Please," he said urgently.

We stared at each other silently, the sounds outside the room growing louder with each second that passed. I sighed, moving to stand off to the side reluctantly.

"I'll find you," he promised.

In a flash, he was gone. I whipped around to look at the dark room with the golden drapes.

The window was now closed.

The door suddenly burst open and I cringed at the high pitched voice that followed.

"Oh my god! Bella... You're alright!" I flinched at the crushing hug Victoria pulled me into.

Victoria never showed affection, let alone _hugged_ anyone.

"How did you get here? James said you fell?"

"I did…" I paused, quickly thinking up a lie. "I managed to grab onto a ledge and—"

"Threw yourself through this window?" she finished with raised eyebrows.

"It was locked," I explained lamely.

She stared at me for a moment. "You are more resourceful than I thought," she clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "If you applied that type of dedication to your work, you'd be making a hell of a lot more."

"Right," I laughed uneasily. "Would you mind if I took the rest of the day off? You know…to visit a hospital or something to get this taken care of?" I waved my wrapped arm in explanation. There were already blotches of blood seeping through the makeshift bandage.

"Resourceful," she mumbled again. "Sure. Take the rest of the day off, but I will still expect to see you tomorrow bright and early," she warned.

I smirked. "I'll be there."

Victoria took her job a little _too_ seriously sometimes.

I gave the officers who questioned me the same story I gave Victoria. They were surprised I wasn't more severely injured, but eventually just said I was lucky. They may have known me from Charlie, but they weren't familiar with my past injuries. They didn't know how clumsy I was—or that fact that _luck_ was never on my side.

After milking their sympathies a little with my arm, they released me and said I could stop by the station tomorrow after work to make an official statement. I wasn't sure what I would say about James, but I knew I needed to put a stop to his behavior. Whether it was an accident or not didn't really matter—he should have never put me in that position.

By now it hadn't gotten dark and I almost regretted declining when one of the officers offered me a ride. Walking down the dark streets barefoot wasn't really an enjoyable experience, but I supposed it was a minor improvement from the heels—as long as I didn't step in any gum.

I was a couple blocks away from the bus stop when I got this unsettling feeling, like I was being watched. I picked up my pace, no longer monitoring every step I took for wayward pieces of trash. I whipped my head around in search of whoever was following me, but I couldn't see them.

That was when I stepped on something.

I looked down at the crushed box of chocolates under my feet. I picked it up and flipped the card attached to it over. Written in a scrawl I would know anywhere was my name.

I gasped, dropping it quickly before taking off in a run. I took side streets, hoping to lose him, for I _knew_ it was James following me. I could just _feel_ it.

I cursed lightly as I accidentally made a wrong turn.

"Bella!" I cringed at his voice, regretting not accompanying the police officers when they offered.

"James."

His eyes were wide with relief, his appearance ruffled and the stink of sweat rising off of him. "I was so worried. Thank god you're alright," he said, opening his arms wide and beckoning me into his embrace.

"Leave me alone, James."

His expression of relief faded into irritation, but he didn't lower his arms. "Come here," he ordered.

"No," I took a step back.

He matched my movement by taking a step forward. "I was _so worried_," he ground out.

"Seriously James, leave me alone now and I won't tell the police you were involved with what happened today."

"Well Bella, if you had just admitted your feelings, none of that would have happened."

"Are you blaming what happened on me?" I asked incredulously.

"It was your fault."

"You're _insane_," I spat furiously.

The word set him off and he grew livid. He stalked toward me and I fumbled in my purse frantically, searching for something Charlie had given me when I left Forks. When he was a foot away, I found it and sprayed the Mase in his eyes.

He screamed and I tried to run around him as he rubbed at his eyes, but he grabbed my hair, fisting his hand around my locks. I cried out as he wretched me backward, throwing my body into a concrete wall.

My back collided with the wall harshly, knocking the wind out of me. I tried to ignore the pain and gather my breath as James slapped me roughly across the face. I coughed as blood dripped off my face and onto my shoulder.

I looked up, cringing back as he raised his hand again. This time my gaze flitted away from James and into a pair of golden eyes who were staring viciously at the back of James's head.

"Edward," I breathed.

James turned around just in time for Edward's blow, his body falling into a pair of trashcans with the force of it. Edward paid him no mind after that as he gathered me into his arms and began walking out to the street.

My head was spinning, but I didn't miss his murderous glare as Edward carried me away.

I clung to the fabric of his shirt—he was fully dressed now—as he pushed the door to his apartment building open.

"Good evening Mr. Cullen," a large man in a suit greeted. "Wild night, I take it?" he asked, glancing at me with a kind smile.

"You can take the rest of the night off, Emmett," Edward replied, ignoring his comment.

"Alrighty," he said happily. "Till next time," he addressed me, tilting an imaginary hat.

Edward moved us into an elevator, pressing the button that I imagine would take us to his floor. Neither of us had spoken since I said his name when he saved me from James.

"I can walk."

"Oh, right," he said nervously, setting me down on my feet.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

That was one of the most awkward elevator rides I had ever taken in my life. The doors opened and as I took a step forward, my knees buckled. Edward stopped me from falling and I blushed as his hands remained on my hips.

"I guess I'm still a little woozy."

He nodded, wordlessly slinging one of my arms around his neck as he moved us forward—his body hunched down so that I could reach. He guided us to a door, unlocking it and flicking a light on as he helped me inside.

I surveyed his apartment, finding the décor more luxurious than mine, but not as spectacular as I had suspected. I'm not sure what I was imagining—high tech machinery and a large glass case with a superhero costume clad manikin—but this sure wasn't it.

"This is a lot less…" I trailed off, searching for the right word. "_Flashy_ than I would have expected for a superhero," I grinned.

My smiled fell as I caught his less than amused expression.

"Edward… Is everything okay?" I asked cautiously.

"You know what Bella? No. Everything isn't okay."

I watched him stomp around his apartment for a moment, moving seemingly random objects before making his way to the kitchen. I kept my distance as he pulled a glass out of one of the cupboards and filled it with water from the tap. He swallowed its contents in one long gulp.

"Edward—"

I flinched as his hands tightened and the glass he was holding shattered. He watched the pieces fall to the floor, appearing to grow angrier by the second.

"Damn it."

He stared at the mess for a beat longer before slamming his head against a wall. I ran over to him, gaze darting from the new hole in the wall to his forehead, checking for damage. Although he seemed to be alright, I pressed my fingers to his skin for good measure. I felt a surge of hurt pass through me when he cringed away from my touch. His rejection hurt more than it should have and I took a step back with that realization.

He looked up at me then, his eyes full of remorse at what he must have seen in mine, before he quickly looked away. His fists clenched again, as his anger became evident once more.

"It's all my fault," he said, staring dejectedly at the ground.

I followed his gaze, surprised to see it rested upon the fragments of glass.

"It's no big deal… I mean that kind of thing happens. It's nothing a broom can't fix," I offered.

He looked up at me in confusion, before he noticed my pointed glance at the floor.

"This isn't about the glass," he said with a small amused smile.

"What's it about then?" I asked gently, leaning against the counter across from him.

"I should have been there," he kept his gaze leveled on his clenched fists. "I should have never left you alone. I should have been there to protect you. If I had," he paused, "you would have never gotten hurt."

"This is about James?" I felt my eyebrows rise. "What happened wasn't your fault," I stated adamantly, before rethinking my words. "Nothing even really happened…"

He directed his furious gaze at me and I felt myself lean farther back into the counter at the force of it. I watched his hand reached behind my head and winced as he applied a little pressure to the area it had made contact with the alley wall.

"_That_ isn't nothing. _That_ is physical evidence that I failed to protect you. Don't even get me started on the blood," he growled.

"It isn't you job to protect me."

"Isn't it?" he laughed humorously and more to himself than to me. His hand slid from behind my head to weave through the strands before stopping to twirl the ends. I felt the previous hurt of rejection slowly dissipate.

"I'm glad you haven't adapted one of those '_everybody gets one'_ policies, but it isn't your job to protect me. I think that the act of saving me from becoming a pancake more than filled the quota."

His lips slid into a tight line. "I don't think you should take what happened so lightly."

"What _almost_ happened," I corrected. "Besides, if I can't joke about it…" I trailed off, not having the faintest idea where I was going with that statement.

I shook my head of the thoughts that were threatening to slip through.

"It's more of my fault anyway. I mean, I _could_ have gotten a ride from one of the officers," I supplied.

"You could have," he agreed, but the line was still in place.

"Walking to the bus stop alone after what almost happened and at night no less, was a bad idea."

"It was," he agreed again.

"It was really stupid of me."

"Really stupid," he consented.

"Okay I don't want you to blame yourself, but I could use a little less agreement where my lack of intelligence is concerned," I grumbled.

It seemed that had finally broken through his dark thoughts because he laughed lightly.

"So this is your lair?" I smirked.

He laughed loudly, causing my smirk to grow into a grin. I moved around the room, tilting and shifting various objects like he had earlier. I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my face, but I kept my gaze averted.

I suppose he couldn't take being ignored any longer because he moved to stand in front of me, effectively drawing my gaze and stopping my investigation.

"What are you doing, Bella?" he asked curiously.

I couldn't help but blush at the way he said my name. It sounded beautiful, as it was meant to, and created images of romance in Florence within my mind. I shook my head to try and clear it.

"I'm looking for a secret passageway."

"You're not going to find one Bella," he chuckled, evidently amused by my antics.

"The hell I'm not."

I moved over to a bookcase, smiling devilishly at Edward as his lips fell into a frown. It was one of these books. It _had_ to be.

I pulled one out, glancing at the cover for a moment before searching for the seemingly non-existent secret passageway.

"Bella, I don't think you should—"

"I'll find it," I huffed to myself, ignoring Edward.

I noticed a peculiar book off to the side. From what I could tell from looking at the binding, it was a very old leather bound book. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward stiffen, and that was all the proof I needed. I was about ready to yell some sort of magical word as I pulled the book out, but paused when something fluttered to the ground.

I bent down and picked up the white square and flipped it over, gasping at what I saw.

"What is this?"

It was picture. Of me. _In bed._

He stared at the picture, his eyes wide with shock.

"How did you get this?"

I already knew. I always locked my bedroom door. It was this pet peeve of mine. Even if someone had been staying with me—which no one had in years apart from Charlie—there would be no way for them to get in. No, a normal person with normal physical capabilities couldn't have gotten into my room to take this picture.

I wanted to hear him say it.

He continued to stare at the photo in my hands like he could burn it with his gaze. Hell, maybe he could.

"You were in my room?" I finally shrieked when he remained silent.

He flinched at my voice, but the screeching volume must have broken him out of his daze because he took a purposeful step forward.

"You want to know the truth, Bella?" his lips curled over my name, the sound created the sensation of ants scurrying across my skin.

"I'm there every night when you climb into bed. I'm in your room every time you shut your eyes and allow sleep to come. I stand over you every time you dream."

"I'm always there, Bella. Lurking in the shadows and consuming you with three of my five senses. You are a temptress and I am gluttony."

He was panting heavily and staring while I was trying to come to terms with what he was telling me.

"I am nothing more than a stalker," he whispered, letting his shoulders sink.

_Stalker_.

I turned the word over in my head, trying to decide exactly how I felt about that. I tried to imagine him standing by my bed, towering over me as I slept. _Watching_ me sleep.

I could feel a sudden shift.

Holy crap.

Was I turned on?

Edward's head snapped up and I had the most frightening thought that he could read my mind. We stared at each other, frozen, until he broke the contact for a moment and his eyes darted _there_ before quickly returning to my face.

I was turned on.

And _somehow_, Edward knew.

Holy crap.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment as his nostrils flared.

He knew.

_He knew. He knew. He knew._

"Shit," I cursed.

That word. That common curse word seemed to be the magical password to unlock something he must have kept tucked away with a huge steel padlock. At least, I thought that might be the case when I felt my back press into the bookcase and his front press into mine.

"Edward," I breathed, in both shock and pleasure as he released my lips and moved to my neck.

"And now I have touch," he whispered as his hands slipped under my top.

I felt his hands move up and down my sides before trailing up my back, creating a cacoon that kept me surrounded by _Edward_. His fingers tapped their way up my spine like a line of piano keys.

"And now," I froze as his tongue licked a trail up my neck and paused at my ear. "I have taste," he growled as his lips closed around my earlobe.

I jerked forward, seeking more friction. Unfortunately, this seemed to snap him out of whatever lust induced haze he had been under. In a split second he was across the room and I was left unsatisfied.

I may have been pouting.

"I'm sorry. That was horribly inappropriate." He was staring at the floor.

"Not inappropriate enough…" I mumbled, blushing when he looked up at me.

Of course he had heard that. Super hearing. _Duh_.

It took me a moment to calm down, but when I finally did, something occurred to me.

"Why did you let me see? You saw which book I was grabbing. You saw the photo fall out. You are so fast…you could have stopped me. Why didn't you?"

One of his hands ran through his hair while he smiled sheepishly at me. "I don't know. I think…I think on some level, I wanted you to know…"

"Hmm. Kinky," I smirked.

"Says the girl who gets turned on when she finds out she has a stalker," he teased with a smile, but I could still see traces of a frown.

I moved toward him slowly, expecting him to dart away from me at any moment.

He didn't.

I stood in front of him. "It's you I'm attracted to, Edward. Not your…nightly activities."

He laughed.

"Though…"

"Though?" he asked curiously.

"The _always being there_ thing is kind of hot…in a creepy sort of way."

He shook his head, but he was smiling. "You are ridiculous."

His arms wound around me and I couldn't help the grin on my face.

"Don't I know it."

***

**THE END**

**Author's Note: This is my final entry in the Twilight Twenty-Five. I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed. I would also like to thank punkfarie for being amazing as always and reading through all my crap. (Even though she wouldn't stay up to see this completed). **

**On my profile there should be a poll. Please go there to vote for your favorite one-shots and/or drabbles. I will be continuing the entry with the most votes. (At least one full chapter, but maybe more). Please keep this in your alerts because I will be announcing which entries will be continued later on.**

**This was insane and I'm pretty sure my brain is tapped. =)**


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